Mrs Richard B Riddick
by Tazzmoodley
Summary: Marty Flynn just wanted to find some closure and move on with her life. Instead she's now trapped in a desert nightmare as she struggles to survive while trying to deal with her convict husband. OC x Riddick
1. Chapter 1

My first fanfic so please go easy on me. Basically just wanted to do a "what if" story with my favourite character, Richard B. Riddick. Reviews are most welcome! As you're probably aware all characters belong to their rightful owners. I do not claim and never will claim to have created Pitch Black or anything related to Riddick. The only thing I am claiming to have created is my character Marty Flynn Riddick along with any other OC characters. Enjoy!

* * *

My husband once said that most of your brain shuts down in cyro-sleep. All but the primitive side-the animal side, that is. He said that it was one of the reasons why paying extra for cyro was useless considering he was awake half the time during long trips. Personally, I thought he was just saying that so I'd agree to him buying his own ship.

It didn't make sense that I was still awake. My cyro-chamber was shut tight. One of the crew members had even come by to make sure that the chambers were working properly. Though I'm not sure how they checked it since all they did was just bang on the metal for a few seconds before moving onto the next chamber. Maybe they programmed it wrong-set the timer for only three weeks instead of twenty two. Either way, regardless of what caused the malfunction, I'm awake, bored, and staring at the rows of chambers across from me.

Particularly I'm staring at the chamber directly across from me; there's a man inside sleeping, unlike me, peacefully in the cryo chamber across from me. His lean but well-built form just fits inside the chamber. Light brown hair rests atop his head, slightly accenting his, I would assume by most people's standards, attractive perhaps even handsome face. Personally I wouldn't know as my taste in men prefers them to be a bit more muscular and a lot more…well…I don't know, someone different looking than him.

He's a wearing a uniform similar to that of a cop. Naturally I would have assumed this man to be a cop but, as luck would have it, I already knew that he wasn't. He was a merc -a man whose job consisted of hunting down dangerous criminals. I knew this because this exact same man, that rested in a chamber only meters away from me, had captured the convict that was currently chained and locked away in the ship's-the Hunter Gratzner- only reinforced cyro-chamber.

Tentatively I pulled down the emergency latch of the glass door of my chamber, testing to see whether it would open. With a loud whooshing sound the door slowly cracked open allowing me to push it all the way and step outside. Immediately I felt a sense of relief as I stepped out into the open area-the chambers were far too cramped for my taste and, though I had no problems with enclosed spaces, I couldn't help but feel claustrophobic. The ability to stretch my muscles out was also a huge relief as my legs had stiffen from standing in the same position for nearly three hundred and thirty six hours straight.

I winced as I forced my cramping legs to move, trying to get my muscles working. I walked around for a bit then, when the prickly, numbing, feeling in my legs began to disappear, I began to take notice of my surroundings.

There were forty plus passengers on the ship, all of them, excluding me, tucked away in their cryo-chambers fast asleep. Of these forty plus passengers only one of them was locked away in a reinforced chamber. It was easy to pick out this chamber from the rest as it was the only one with bright warning letters, forbidding others to open the chamber until the ship had landed, across its glass. It was this chamber that I found myself walking towards, nervousness and apprehension whirling through me as the man locked inside slowly came into focus.

My husband, Richard B. Riddick.

I pray to God that Riddick's asleep. The last thing I want is getting caught looking at him. His locker is a little bit bigger than ours to compensate for the chains on his arms and there's a bit in his mouth. Why they felt the need to put a bit in Riddick's mouth when he clearly couldn't move was beyond me but then again my husband wasn't known for his polite words. Blunt and straight to the point-that is if he was trying to make a point. Otherwise he'd just pass the time trying to rile you up by saying cryptic things that hinted at the truth or just plain insulted your intelligence. More than once I remember locking Riddick out of our bedroom after his harsh words had left me in a fury. It was a vain effort though as he just as easily picked the lock and barged his way to our bed.

I blinked and studied him closely; his skin had gotten darker. He was now a golden tan though how I knew that, when the bad light all but prevented me from seeing his colour properly, eluded me. Somehow I just knew.

He's gotten bigger; he put on more muscle since the last time I saw him. His head's shaven, completely bald and devoid of the buzz cut I used to give him when he was with the Company. Time, unlike for me, had been good to him. Even in the dim light, he was still the most handsome man I had ever seen a fact I was kicking myself for as I felt my heart give its familiar, traitorous, flutter as I raked my eyes over his form.

God, how long had it been? How long had it been since my eyes had laid on him? Definitely more than five years. Five plus years of rage, of loneliness, of worrying, of pain, of fear…It had been a nightmare, learning to live without Riddick. I had nearly killed myself in the process, nearly allowed myself to be killed by others too. But it had also been five plus years of self-discovery-of becoming harder, stronger, more independent. His absence had forced me to become a survivor and though I would never pride myself on how I became tougher I did pride myself on becoming tougher without him, by my side, holding my hand.

I frowned as I noticed his attire, consisting of nothing more than black cargo pants, combat boots and a black wife beater shirt. They were the exact same clothes he had worn the day he had been arrested. It made me wonder whether he had any other clothes, had taken the time to buy any.

With what money? My mind chastised and then a new thought had me staring at him in wonder. Did he survive these past five years stealing? My frown deepened as I thought of Riddick, cold and alone, fending for himself from bounty hunters and mercs, as he tried to survive without a welcoming place to shelter.

I knew what he had been up to these past years-at least I knew what the newspapers and articles had said he had been doing. Murdering, getting arrested, escaping prison, and stealing ships…Standard crimes for a high class criminal if the bounty for my husband's head related to how dangerous he was. Despite how much my mind wanted to rebel against the accusations against him, somehow I wasn't able to will up enough denial to paint Riddick as the same man that had taken his vows with me. My husband was gone replaced by the man behind the glass wall.

Honestly, if I thought about it, it had always been there, that dangerous aura. From when I had first met Riddick at the corner shop on Planet Six to the day he had been taken to the Slam, there had always been an animalistic sense about my husband-wary, fierce, dark, instinctive and independent. It was a side of him that he had long strove to suppress, a side I rarely ever saw. A couple times, when we had been making love, he had slipped up and let the animal inside him out. All those times I had passed out only to awaken, minutes later, to Riddick's worrying, panicked, face as he frantically checked to make sure I was okay. He'd then spend hours trying to isolate himself from me as his mind tried to deal with his self-disgust and, what I often suspected, his enjoyment at taking my body as he wanted.

I knew my husband wasn't normal. It was what had first attracted me to him. Now, as I stare at him I wonder just how much Riddick had kept from me, how much of his animalistic side he had tried to drown out in order to be with me. It's a sobering thought, to realize that the man you had vowed to die next to could have simply been lying about himself to you throughout the whole duration of your courtship and marriage. I didn't know whether to cry, to laugh, to rage out or to simply shake my head at the injustice. If anything I hoped that it make what I would have to do easier when the ship finally lands on Taurus Three.

I raise my eyebrow when I finally notice that he's wearing a blindfold. A blindfold. Of all the ridiculous things to do they decide to blindfold him. As if the bit and chains weren't bad enough now they were trying to deny him the right to see. Sure he was a criminal but didn't he have rights? Besides it was dark in the ship-I was having a hard enough time just to see the man in front of me. The bit I could understand-my husband really could be an unwanted smartass at times. But did they honestly think he could see in the dark?

Giving a sigh I stared down at my feet, trying to sort out my emotions and coming up with none. I looked up and stared again at the man who had dominated my thoughts these past couple of years. Seeing Riddick in such a state-chained up with no way to speak or see-left me in turmoil. I was upset at what they had done to him, yes, but I was also upset at him; I had so many questions that I wanted to be answered, so many words that I wanted to say, no yell, at Riddick to demand from him. Mostly, I wanted to ignore the feelings stirring within me and finally free my heart of Riddick's presence.

Timidly I pressed my hand against the glass, waiting to see if he would react to it. He was still except for a small twitch that went through his neck though it didn't surprise me. He often reacted like that when he was in a cyro-chamber, appearing as if he was still awake when in reality he was fast asleep. Nightmares, infrequent in our marriage but still appearing now and again, also caused him to react in a similar manner-deadly still, lifeless, except for an occasional movement indicating that he was still alive.

It was then I remembered, with quite some embarrassment, that he was asleep; he was, like the rest of passengers, in cyro and, since it looked like his cyro-chamber was working, would be asleep indefinitely until the ship had landed. With a sigh I removed my hand, resigning myself from my brooding in order to go back to sleep. It was pointless, I reasoned, to be thinking about things that were beyond my control and that would do little more than either aggravate me or put me into a depression. I began shuffling back to my chamber, resolving myself to not think about my husband until the trip was over. A futile resolution considering that the man was in the same vicinity as me. Again I looked at Riddick and as I took in the chains, the blindfold, and the bit I couldn't help but give another sigh.

"Richard B. Riddick," I said his name softly, for the first time in years. "What on earth have you done?"

* * *

It was the alarm that woke me up.

The bright loud sound of sirens, the flashing glare of red lights, jostled me out of my slumber. Groggily I opened my eyes, trying to register what was happening only to become painfully aware of the sound of a cyro-chamber knocking into mine as the ship violently rocked back and forth.

Fully awake now I began to notice other things; two members of the crew had fallen out of their chambers onto the floor. Dimly I could make out their conversation, how they shouldn't have been awake for another nineteen weeks. One of them, the woman, urgently pointed out at a man, who lay dead in his chamber with shards piercing his body. I shivered when I saw that the shards had broken through his cyro-chamber, piercing his body despite the glass wall that should have protected him. It was only when the two crew members scampered off in the direction of the cockpit that I began to start panicking.

Something was wrong. Something was terribly, utterly wrong. Malfunctions, a broken part, maybe even an asteroid field-something was causing the mayhem happening on the ship. Fear began to bubble within me as I tried to open my chamber, suddenly acutely aware of how cramped and immobilizing the compartment was. I tried to pull down the emergency latch only to discover, to my horror, that it had jammed. Up and down, up and down, no matter how hard I pulled the latch would not budge. Forgetting about the latch I quickly went to the next best option; my hands, pushed, clawed, and smacked against the glass door. However it seemed that the grace of Lady Luck was not to be bestowed upon me; my hands met nothing but resistance as the door, which separated me from the open area of the ship, refused to budge. Again and again I tried and again and again my hands simply slapped against the unmoving glass. All the while the ship rocked me from side to side, my panic rising as the ship's movement made it harder for me to push against the door.

I was trapped. Something was wrong with the ship and, like a mouse in a maze, I was trapped. If I wasn't panicking before I was having a full blown nervous breakdown now. Desperate noises of fear tore from my throat as my arms now all but slammed hard against the glass, bruising me in the process. My breaths were short and quick, my lungs suddenly feeling devoid of oxygen. Through my panic only one thing was fixed in my mind, persisting like a thousand buzzing flies.

I was trapped.

A loud, rumbling, creak was my only warning as my chamber suddenly tipped forward crashing onto the floor. My body, carried by the momentum, slammed hard against the door, knocking my head against the glass with a sickening bang. Darkness danced across my vision as my head exploded in pain, leaving me dazed and unable to move. Dimly, I could hear the sound of a latch closing but I barely registered the sound, my brain too addled by the fall to make sense of anything. Then, with a loud crashing noise, everything went black and I allowed myself to slip into oblivion as I passed out.

* * *

I first met Riddick when I was 20 years old.

It had been raining; all week the rain had poured down onto my rundown city, temporarily washing away the sin that normally infested the streets and alleyways during the night. I, after discovering that the only edible items in my house belonged to my cat, had decided to go down to the corner store and buy a package of instant noodles. The journey from my apartment to the store, which only took ten minutes, had left me soaking, miserable, and not in a mood to dawdle.

So it was with great aggravation that I entered the store, headed straight to the rack where the noodles were kept, only to witness the last package of instant noodles being taken by a man.

I was upset-correction, I was pissed. Ten minutes I had braved what could honestly be considered a typhoon only to find that my efforts had all been for naught. Add that to the fact that my stomach was practically trying to eat itself and I was seething with ill contained rage, ready to blow off at the slightest stimuli.

It was at that moment, sensing that I was mad or perhaps it was the fact that I was glaring bullets at him, that the man glanced up.

I froze-not out of fear, mind you, but more out of shock as I found myself mesmerized by two beautiful orbs of golden brown. My mouth, mere moments ago ready to bite someone, was suddenly dry as I took in his equally beautiful-no sorry, sexy-face of slightly tanned goodness. A buzz cut of light brown hair was pressed flat to his head, still damp from the weather outside. A sleeveless top-which defied all logic considering how freaking wet it was outside-molded to his muscled form. Against my will I found myself raking my eyes over his body, taking in his well-developed muscles, the way his skin glistened perfectly from the rain, the fact that I was disappointed that he was wearing a loose pair of sweatpants…

A deep throated chuckle (that nearly melted me) caused my gaze to snap back to his now smirking face. Pure amusement was deep in his eyes as he gave an infuriatingly male look at my appraisal of him, a look that got more pronounced as, mortified, my cheeks flushed with heat at being caught checking him out.

"Need something sweetheart?" he rumbled, his voice deep and deliciously gruff. I had to remember to breathe when I realized, yes, this man was indeed real and not an imagination of my, sadly, single life. Miraculously I found my voice.

"Noodles." I squeaked out. He frowned, making me feel small and incredibly insignificant. He glanced back at the now empty shelves behind him before redirecting his attention back to me.

"Sorry, I took the last one." He said, stating the obvious. Weakly I nodded, feeling incredibly uncomfortable and out of my element. Dear God, what do you say to handsome men like this without sounding like an idiot? Such pressure! How did women with hot boyfriends do it? It was a wonder that I had even lasted this long without mumbling nonsense and scaring him off! I shook my head only to realize that Mr. Sex was busy waiting for me to say something.

By now I could have easily passed off for a tomato, my face burning with embarrassment. Anxiously I glanced back at his face, once again struck by how handsome he was. He was, by far, the most handsome man I had ever had the fortune of meeting.

"That's okay. I guess." I mumbled, unsure of what else to say. He said nothing, simply staring at me with a neutral expression. Once again I was trapped by his mesmerizing gaze suddenly wishing that the man I ended up with have eyes just as beautiful as the man before me.

"Please God, even if I'm destined to be with an ugly man, please at least give him eyes just as beautiful as the man before me." I murmured, unintentionally voicing my thoughts aloud as my brain vomited against my will. As soon as the words left my mouth, my eyes widened in horror; I pressed my hands to my mouth in horrified shock as I realized what I had just said. Anxiously I stared at the man suddenly wishing that I had eaten the cat food when I had the chance.

Mr. Sex didn't say anything. Instead he opted to continue staring at me with the same neutral expression. Then, in an air so casual I swear I had imagined it if it weren't for the fact that I was staring straight at him, he boldly flicked his eyes over my body taking in my drenched form, with my knotted, black, hair plastered to my head and my transparent pale skin which seemed almost sickly in my two sizes too big, ratty, worn out, soaking, sweater. His gaze lingered over my chest, as if he was trying to determine whether I had breasts or not and consciously I folded my arms over my chest, heat flooding my cheeks once again at his unwanted appraisement. At the movement of my arms his gaze suddenly moved back to my face, freezing me as his neutral expression became devastatingly thoughtful.

No longer was I a tomato. Now I was lobster being boiled alive.

All but freaking out, I nervously mumbled a quick thank you before scurrying to the opposite end of the store, trying to put as much distance between me and Mr. Sex. Logically I could have left the store but I didn't brave ten minutes of pelleting rain and howling winds just to turn back around, face another ten minutes of water hell, to end up back at my apartment hungry as well as depressed. Besides, if I was going to be depressed I might as well be depressed and well fed.

It was while I was busy looking over a selection of chips, wondering which would be best on white bread, that I suddenly became aware of a large presence behind me. I whirled around only to come face to face with Mr. Sex.

"Hey." Mr. Sex said in his deep rumbly voice. I stared back at him wide eyed wondering what on earth he wanted. Surely I couldn't have possibly offended him during our five minute exchange? I hadn't even meant to comment on his eyes aloud!

A package suddenly dangled in front of me, the large letters of INSTANT NOODLES flashing across the bright yellow plastic packet. For a few seconds I stared at it, a confused expression on my face, only to frown when I realized that he was dangling the last package of noodles in front of my face. He cleared his throat, diverting my attention back to his face.

"Here." He said, the package still dangling in front of me. "Take it." I stared up at him suspiciously.

"Why?" I blurted, once again feeling like an idiot, this time at how rude I sounded. He shifted uncomfortably.

"I don't want it anymore." He explained. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "I'm not hungry." At his words I couldn't help but snort; he was a large man and, judging from his incredible built-I once again had to remind myself to stop my eyes from roaming over his chest-he probably had an equally incredible metabolism. Not hungry? Don't make me laugh.

His eyebrows rose at my sound of disbelief. "What? It's true!" He tried to defend himself. I couldn't help it; I started to giggle.

"Hey, I'm being serious here, sweetheart-I'm not hungry!" he snapped in annoyance. At his put off face I couldn't help but giggle even harder. He gave an annoyed growl.

"You know what? Fine, forget it." He growled, walking away from me. Immediately I sobered up.

"No! Wait, I'm sorry." I said, forgetting all about my shyness as I hurried towards him to apologize. He stopped and turned around to gaze at me guardedly.

I took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. It's just that I'm not used to a stranger being so courteous." I explained. He continued to stare at me in silence, his expression still painfully guarded. Once again I found myself turning red as a tomato as I became unsure of myself.

"Um…what I meant was…it was nice of you to offer…b-but…." I suddenly found myself stammering at his unchanged expression, suddenly uncomfortable with how severe he looked. Taking a deep breath, I focused my gaze on the floor, noting that he wore combat boots, and finished my sentence.

"It was nice of you to offer but you were probably going to eat the noodles for dinner, right? I wouldn't feel comfortable, having you give up your dinner for me when we don't know each other. It wouldn't seem right, you know? Besides, it's not like I can't find something else to eat. So as nice as your offer is-"

"What's your name?" Mr. Sex suddenly asked me, cutting me off. I looked up in surprise only to find my eyes catching his. Embarrassed I lowered my face.

"Marty. Marty Flynn." I mumbled. I gave a surprised yelp as my hand was suddenly grabbed forcing me to look up at Mr. Sex's suddenly amused face. He gave a smirk.

"Riddick. Richard B. Riddick." He introduced himself still clasping my hand which had gotten considerably warmer. I stared at him curiously, trying to ignore the feel of his hand on mine.

"Richard?" I asked, testing the name on my lips. The man shook his head.

"Riddick. Just Riddick-it's what everyone calls me."

Riddick and I met three times after that night. Once at a flea market, again at the corner shop, and the final time had been at the post office where I had worked at. On the third time Riddick had finally asked me out-though in all fairness he simply asked where I was going out for dinner and then had all but gloriously barged in on my date, promptly scaring the guy off who had asked me out. Needless to say, despite the intrusion, he proved to be far better company than any of the guys I had previously dated. We dated for a while, broke up when we couldn't handle our differences only to end up having the best make up sex ever the very next day. Six months later, after reconciling with each other, Riddick asked me to marry him.

I said yes.


	2. Chapter 2

When my mind filtered back to consciousness I was aware of two things.

One, my head was killing me. Wait, scratch that. My whole freaking body was killing me.

Two, someone was trying very hard to move my chamber. They were succeeding.

The dim sound of someone grunting in excursion as metal scraped against the floor barely registered as my brain tried to reconnect with my body. Groggily my mind began to float back into consciousness, slowly becoming aware of my surroundings; I was on my stomach. My fingers, all ten still attached to my outstretched arms, grazed against something cold and wet. Half consciously I twitched my leg only to feel my foot clang against the hard wall of my chamber.

Darkness greeted me as my eyes refused to open, a pounding in my head preventing me from thinking clearly. Aches and pains began to make themselves known as memories of sirens and flashing lights started to resurface my mind. Then, swift as a shooting star, I remembered that something had happened to the ship; a gasp escaped my mouth as I realized that I was on the floor of the ship and my eyes opened to take in the dim light that filtered through the crack of the metal wall. Quickly I tried to get up only to end up crashing back down to the floor when my head clanged against a pipe that had stabbed through the metal shell of my chamber, missing me by mere centimetres.

Once again pain exploded across my vision, temporarily blinding me. Too sore and dazed to move I barely had time to register that my chamber was being picked up, only to be tipped back down so that the metal part of the chamber was on the ground and the glass door facing the roof.

The chamber crashed once again to the floor with a painful thud. Like before, the fall of the chamber sent me flying, this time backwards, into the wall of the chamber, my back slamming painfully hard into the metal. Groaning at the abuse my, now battered, body was receiving, I gingerly shifted wincing as each movement put pressure on the bruises that I had acquired.

I could feel light filtering through the cracked glass, knowing rather than seeing as my eyes were still shut tight, that chamber was now facing the right way. Squeezing my eyelids down even tighter I tried to will away the steady thrumming resonating throughout my head. It was a miracle that I didn't have a concussion let alone was still conscious after all the abuse my head went through. Maybe luck was on my side. Then again, I was in my cryo-chamber, on my back, covered head to toe in bruises after a malfunction that most likely-again my brain was foggily trying to catch up-sent the ship I was travelling in crashing.

A hard cracking sound was my only warning as a shower of glass sprayed over me. Screaming I instinctively brought my arms up to cover my face, feeling the glass shards bounce and slide off the bulky leather jacket that I, thankfully, wore. A few seconds later the glass stopped raining down on me but my reprieve was short lived as two hands roughly grabbed my arms and pulled me out of the chamber.

Momentarily I was lifted into the air before being placed onto the ship's metal floor, fresh air hitting my face as the hands dragged me out. My feet touched ground, the support from the mystery arms leaving me, only for my knees to end up buckling as my legs-sore and stiff-failed to work.

Ground rushed towards me but the expected pain of my body slamming into the metal floor never came; the two hands reappeared to grab me, abruptly stopping my descent to sharply pull me back. In the wake of this new direction my body slammed, not into the metal floor, into something slightly less hard and definitely a hundred times warmer.

Fabric scratched against my cheek and the new pressure on my body made me aware of two hands-one on my shoulder, another in my hair. Clinking sounds alerted me to the presence of chain links clanging against each other. Opening my eyes I was greeted by the colour of black as my face all but pressed up against a, very well defined, chest.

I knew this chest. I knew this chest very well even after five plus years of separation. I was in the arms of Richard B. Riddick-escaped convict, murderer and my husband of almost eight years.

My breath caught in my throat, my whole body frozen stiff with shock; to think that Riddick and I would meet like this, under these circumstances, after such a long time was baffling. If anything, I had expected our reunion to be a lot different-taking place on Taurus Three for one, after the ship had landed and just before Riddick was transported to the prison. Most certainly I hadn't been expecting to be rescued by him after getting trapped by my fallen cryo-chamber (the smell of smoke and the metal debris at my feet definitely suggested that the ship was anywhere but in space) and I definitely wasn't prepared for the warm, delightfully tight, feeling of his arm around me.

I waited for Riddick to do something. Instead he simply held me, the hand in my hair still and unmoving. His chest moved evenly against my face, his heart beating strong and even, but slightly fast, against my ear. His smell was as I remembered-warm, slightly earthy, and definitely male-accented by a light odour of ship grease and oil. My hand, which clutched at his shirt, pressed against the smooth, defined, shape of his chest. His breaths came out deep and even, warm bursts of air gently ruffling my hair. It was so surreal I was sure that I was dreaming; the jangle of chains and the fact that my body was practically moaning in pain quickly, however, established that this was indeed real.

Eventually I couldn't handle the tension that was winding around my body; I had to see Riddick. I lifted my head from Riddick's chest and looked up.

I was right; he still was the most handsome man I had ever seen. In fact, he had gotten even more handsome. His skin had indeed gotten darker; what was once light beige had now turned into a golden tan. His neck had gotten thicker and his shoulders had become big with newly acquired muscles. A strong, thick oval shape made up his face, sporting a unique, thick, roundish angular nose; cupid bow lips that were thick and pale rose pink made up his unsmiling mouth; the area around his mouth was dark from where he'd shaved. Still examining his face, my eyes searched his only to freeze when a pair of molten silver stared down at me.

I couldn't stop the gasp that escaped my mouth as his eyes bore down into mine. What had once been golden brown was now bright silver-the pupils of his eyes completely gone so that only two orbs as ethereal as the moon itself glowed brightly at me. Any words that I might have wanted to say, any thoughts that I wished to relay, all died as I stared at Riddick's eyes, trapped by their mesmerizing beauty.

Loud shouts from behind snapped me out of my daze as survivors of the Hunter Gratzner searched for friends and loved ones. Out of reflex I turned my head around just in time to see a chain, presumably connected to two hands, whip over my head; warmth disappeared as Riddick let go of me. I turned around just in time see Riddick climb up the pipes behind us, disappearing in the darkness that the metal columns provided as they connected to each other and the ship's, slightly intact, roof.

For a few minutes I stood there, frozen, staring into the spot that my husband had disappeared into. Then, as the shouting became louder, I swore as I cursed my stupidity at becoming dazzled by Riddick.

"Hello? Is anyone there!?" a feminine, Australian, accent boomed across the room. Giving an irritated sigh I turned around to see a woman, around her mid-twenties, peering into the area I was in.

"Over here!" I yelled, waving my arms to get her attention. Spotting me she waved back and then began to move towards me.

Taking one last look at the spot where Riddick had disappeared to, I gave another sigh before diverting my attention back to the woman before me.

* * *

Dating Riddick was not easy for me to do, at least not initially. Throughout the beginning of our courtship I was constantly racked by bouts of anxiousness, self-consciousness and shy nervousness that left me unable to convey intelligible speech. Worse still was that these moments of insecurity would often occur at the most unwanted of times and most often than not lead to embarrassing situations that left me feeling even more insecure about myself.

Our first date, for example, was a complete disaster-at least in my opinion. What should have been a dream come true ended up becoming a nightmare when, in my panic to find an outfit fitting for the occasion, I had stepped outside of my apartment to greet Riddick only to be informed by him, with both eyebrows raised, that I had failed to put a shirt on. Needless to say I didn't do much talking for the rest of the night.

It didn't help that the object of my anxiety did nothing to encourage my feelings of self-doubt. Without a doubt, Riddick was everything I wanted in a guy; he was handsome, smart, and funny and most importantly seemed interested in me. That was more than I could have hoped for considering how out of depth I was when it came to dating men let alone a handsome man who looked like he could be the lover of Aphrodite and probably convince both Athena and Artemis to give up their virginity without a second thought.

It confused me why this man, a demigod in both looks and strength (he was surprisingly strong), wanted to be with me. I had nothing worthwhile to offer him-no money, no looks worth noticing, and no endearingly charming personality to capture his interest. Yet for some reason, beyond all laws of logic, Riddick insisted, quite boldly in his blunt, subtle, way, to walk me home every night and then kiss me soundly goodnight when we reached my door.

It thrilled me when Riddick kissed me. He was just so passionate, so confident, so domineering. The sheer intensity of his lips on mine made me feel feminine and so much surer in myself than when our dates first started. It made me feel wanted and the way he asserted himself in our kiss, both of his hands on either side of me with my back pressed tightly against my door, brought forth a passion in me that was primal and instinctive; he made me feel alive in a way that I didn't know existed.

Yet for all the feelings Riddick gave me I still did not have the spine to invite him inside my home.

I was scared; I worried that by inviting Riddick inside he would no longer be interested in me. I wasn't stupid; I knew what inviting Riddick inside my home would entail. "Coffee" or "A drink" was really just a subtle way of inviting a man to shag you. As far as I knew, Riddick could have been bidding his time, pursuing me, taking me out on dates, just so he could sleep with me and then leave to find himself a woman more suited to him. The thrill of the hunt…at least that's what my co-worker, Henry, liked to call it as he, quite unwanted on my part, would describe to me his various "conquests"-the amount of time it took him to convince a woman to sleep with him, the planning, the methodical effort he put into ensuring that the woman he was currently "pursuing" wouldn't say no when it came time to do the…deed.

Really, it sounded so degrading, how Henry compared women to prey just perfect for hunting, how it sounded emotionally destructive for the woman who had captured Henry's interest. My time getting to know Riddick had led me to assume (pray) that he wasn't like Henry. Then again how would I know?

But still…the strong feelings that evoked within me when Riddick pressed his lips against mine were incredibly tempting. Would it really be so wrong to just let myself go, to let reason go to Hell and beyond, and just allow myself one moment of pleasure? Again I wasn't stupid; I knew that I wouldn't get another chance with a man like Riddick if I decided to end our relationship-honestly I didn't even know if another man like Riddick even existed. He was just so…perfect. Yet could I risk getting hurt and allow Riddick to have his, which would be with be without a doubt, quite enjoyable way with me?

Understandably I was at an impasse and like most of the problems that I encountered I decided to simply do what I knew best and ignore the situation all entirely.

Which is easier said than done when you're dating Mr. Sex.

The turning point in our relationship finally came two months after we first started dating. It had been chilly outside and Riddick, blunt and insistent, had given me his jacket as he walked me home from the Thai restaurant. The night had been just amazing-clear and beautifully starry; I had managed to not sound like a dying frog and actually had a decent conversation with Riddick; the Thai food had been delicious; Riddick was absolutely delightful; best of all nothing embarrassing had happened to me or been caused by me. Really, the night was just perfect and seeing Riddick, like a knight in shining armour with his jacket held out for me to take in his subtle, obvious, way had been the icing to a very overdue cake.

It was while we were walking, admittedly during the middle of a laughing fit I was having after Riddick told me how he had accidently gotten one of the Company employees suspended, that Riddick suddenly stopped and turned around to look at me.

"Do you want coffee?" Riddick suddenly asked. Still laughing I looked up at him.

"W-hahaha, oh god, snort, oops-sorry, what?" I asked, breathless as I tried to quell my laughing and regain my composure. The smile that had formed on my face suddenly froze at the sight of Riddick's suddenly serious face.

"Coffee?" Riddick asked again, his eyes intense with something unknown, imploring me to not deny. Confused but thinking that maybe Riddick was feeling cold and needed to get out of the weather, I gave a silent nod, biting my lip as I became overcome with shyness. At the action, Riddick took in a quick breath before nodding.

"Right." He grabbed my hand and then began to lead me in the opposite direction of my home. Confusion flooded me as we walked, especially as we passed a various number of places that offered tea and coffee.

"Riddick?" I called as we passed yet another café. Riddick offered me a quick glance over his shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"Didn't you…I mean aren't we going for…?" I tried asking, stumbling over my words once again though this time it had more to do with Riddick dragging me than with shyness. Riddick said nothing; he gave me another unrecognizable look, a look so…I didn't know how to describe it but it left me feeling hot and made anything else I wanted to say sizzle out and die without a thought.

He took me through the city, past shops and busy intersections, until we finally reached a neighbourhood similar to mine with apartment buildings all around. For five minutes we walked through this neighbourhood till finally Riddick pulled me to side where he then led me to one of the apartment buildings, more specifically the stairs of the building that connected the top floors to the ground floor. It was only when we finally stopped outside an apartment door that I realized what Riddick might have meant by "coffee."

"Riddick?" I squeaked, suddenly unsure of his intentions. Riddick looked at me with an expression that was both impassionate as it was calm.

"Yeah?" he asked again, slowly invading my personal space so that I finally found myself trapped between him and the apartment door. Throughout this whole time he had yet to let go of my hand.

"Um…well…didn't…didn't you want coffee?" I asked, nervously licking my lips. I watched as Riddick slowly brought my hand to his face and placed a kiss on my palm. Heat flooded my cheeks at the gentle action.

"I can make us coffee." Riddick informed me, his voice suddenly deeper and huskier than before. My breath caught in my throat as he pierced me with his beautiful gaze, his eyes once again filled with an unknown emotion that I soon recognized for what it was.

Pure, passionate, desire.

My mouth opened as a small quiet, "oh", came from my lips. Honestly I didn't know what else to say; I was completely stunned by the turn of events. To think that Riddick would actually be so bold…I bit my lip, heat burning my cheeks.

Riddick looked at me; the shadows of the night outlined his imposing form and his eyes, smouldering with passion, seemed to glow in a way eerily similar to that of a cat (or in Riddick's case, a panther). I knew it was my mind playing tricks on me, the figments of my nervousness coupling with my erratic heart, but at that moment with the starry sky behind his back Riddick seemed inhuman-a beast in the guise of a man only revealed by moonlight.

A breath escaped me as Riddick brought his face closer to me and his eyes met mine.

"Do you want to come inside?" Riddick asked me, his voice a low baritone. His gaze never left my face and I could only swallow at the sheer intensity of his eyes. He brought his hand up to my face, his knuckles gently grazing my cheeks. I shivered.

"Do you want to come inside," I swallowed again as Riddick lowered his face so that our eyes were level with each other. "For some coffee?"

I couldn't think. He was just too close for me to form a proper coherent thought. Nervously I bit my lip, worrying the flesh between my teeth, but an impatient, irritated, growl froze me still.

"Stop biting your lip." Riddick growled, his eyes trapping me with their beauty. I gave a squeak but obediently did as he said only to have him slam his lips against mine.

Heat burned me as Riddick drowned the gasp that escaped from me, his lips moving against mine. His arms moved so that one wrapped around my body, drawing me closer to him, while his other arm moved up so that his hand tangled in my hair which had come undone during our brisk walk.

I thought I couldn't think before. I was wrong; now I couldn't think. It was like a tap being turned on, a flood of emotions swept over me, denying my brain the space it needed to think. Somewhere through the kiss I heard a whimper that was soon answered by a growl. Almost immediately my back pressed once again to the door; uncertain and not really knowing what I was doing my hands went up to grip the fabric of Riddick's shirt.

I didn't think anything could bring me back to reality, didn't think anything could make me stop. It was only when Riddick's hand released my hair, it was only when I heard the jangle of keys, it was only when I heard the clicking of a door being unlocked that I realized what was happening.

Riddick and I were going inside to have sex.

My eyes opened wide; I gasped, my lips leaving Riddick's briefly only for him to capture them again in another searing kiss. I struggled, my mind conflicted, both wanting the kiss and wanting to run. Somehow, with quite reluctant movement, I managed to break free of his lips.

I gasped, taking in deep breaths, trying to catch my breath. Riddick's breathing was just as heavy. Breathing through my nose I pressed my head against the door, unconsciously baring my neck. A feral sound escaped from Riddick and I looked up to see him eyeing me hungrily once more, eyes riveted to my throat.

Still gasping I shook my head. "No." I breathed deeply, staring at Riddick with wide eyes. Riddick stared back at me, a look of frustration and desire on his face.

"Why not?" he asked, his voice rough. I shook my head again.

"I'm not ready." I rasped, closing my eyes. I heard Riddick give an irritated noise of disbelief.

"Marty-"he started but I quickly cut him off.

"I'm not ready for you to leave." I whispered, biting my lip. I felt Riddick's whole body freeze at my words.

"What are you talking about? I'm not going anywhere." Riddick asked questioningly. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes to find Riddick staring at me with confusion.

I looked down, unable to meet his eyes, focusing on his boots. "I…I know why you're really dating me…"

For a few minutes there was silence then finally Riddick spoke; his voice was low and flat. "Why am I dating you?" I shook my head again.

"You're…You're just trying to see how fast it can take you to…to get me to sleep with you…" I felt Riddick stiffen even more.

"Who told you that?" Riddick's voice was deadly calm.

"No one…I mean, why else would you date me?"

"Because I like you?" I resisted the hope that fluttered at his words. "Marty…you don't honestly believe I'm going to dump you once we sleep together?" I felt Riddick's eyes searching my face, trying to gauge my reaction. I said nothing, biting my lip once more.

His voice was strange when he spoke again. "I'm not leaving you." His hands moved to grip my shoulders. "I'm not going to leave you."

"How do I know?" I whispered questioningly, still unable to see his face. His hands tightened around my shoulders.

"You don't." Something strange was in his voice, something almost…I hesitated slightly and then looked up; Riddick's face was calm, reassuringly so, his typical trademark look of confidence, yet his eyes…his eyes told me a different story. They were raw; emotion I have never seen before in Riddick was suddenly in his eyes. Vulnerability…His eyes, showing me what his face could not, showed desperation, fear, nervousness…his eyes showed Riddick at his most vulnerable. They showed a man-not a god, not something otherworldly, but a man who was willing to bare his soul out to me if only I would be brave enough, merciful enough, to take what he was offering.

They showed a man who wanted to trust and who wanted to love.

"Riddick?" I stared at him questioningly, suddenly scared and worried for the man before me. Riddick took a deep breath, closing his eyes, as he rested his forehead against mine. Hesitantly I brought my hands up to rest against Riddick's chest.

"I can't promise you…I might…one day I might…" I stared in wonder as Riddick struggled to get his words out, fighting to say what he wanted to say. It was so unlike him…Compassion filled me and without thinking I wrapped my arms around Riddick's body, my face buried in his chest. Riddick's whole body stiffened slightly, unsure of my action. Then slowly, ever so slowly, he brought one hand to rest on the back of my head pulling me tightly so that I rested underneath his neck. I breathed in his scent, committing it to memory. The beat of his heart thrummed powerfully against my ears.

_Thud Thud Thud Thud_

"I'm not a good man Marty. One day I will hurt you. Maybe not now but one day…someday…I will. But if you could hold on…if you could stay with me until that day…" his voice was raw, thick with emotion. I said nothing, allowing him to say what he needed to say without interruption.

"Until that day I will not leave you, Marty. No matter how hard you bitch or fight…I will not let you go. Never will I let you go…" I heard him take in a shaky breath before he continued. His fingers began to comb through my curls. "I don't deserve you. You think it's the other way around but it's not. Believe me…trust me…" I felt Riddick's hand shake slightly.

"Riddick." I whispered, my voice muffled against his shirt. Riddick pulled away from me slightly so he could look at me; he gently tipped my chin up so that our eyes met.

"Trust me." He said again, almost pleading. I stared at him as I tried to understand what was going through his mind, as I tried to understand the reasons behind his desperation. For a few seconds my eyes searched his. Then, slowly, I brought my hands up to his face, cupping both his cheeks before pulling him towards me and kissing him-slowly, gently, and passionately. Riddick's arms wrapped around me once more, deepening our kiss, reconfirming his desire for me.

This time, when he opened the door, I didn't shy away. This time, when he opened the door, I allowed him to lead me inside his home.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for all the Reviews! You have no idea how happy you're words make me! All of you you faved, followed and reveiwed my story so far...thank you!

Anyways here's the third chapter. It's a bit slow in the beginning but it will get better, trust me. Happy Reading!

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The woman's name was Shazza. She was a tough looking woman, with a beautiful set of gleaming, long, dark brown curls that had been pulled into a ponytail and a soft, oval shaped, face that outlined her Greek like features. Her outfit was that of a prospector, consisting of a form fitting sleeveless top, along with a pair of working pants and leather boots. It was the way she walked that gave it away though-the air of a woman who knew what hard work entailed, who welcomed the prospect of labour, of working to earn her keep.

She had been travelling with another person-a man by the name of Zeke. They had, she explained, been travelling to Taurus Three to look for work and had decided to take the back alley route in order to save on money. Like me, neither of them had expected the ship to crash.

The ship had indeed crashed; somehow, throughout our journey in space, we must have encountered some sort of problem-an asteroid field, a stray comet, maybe even a malfunction caused by a faulty inspection. And as I look around at the wreckage around me I can't help but send a blessing to God, thanking him for this miracle.

There is absolutely no reason why I should be walking through this wreckage, only covered in bruises and a few cuts, when the damage around me suggests that I should be dead or at the very least with a few major bones broken. It's a miracle that I'm still here, alive and walking. Hell, it's a miracle that anyone's still here, alive and walking and as I progress further into the ship I can't help the gasp that escapes my mouth when I realize just how close to Death's door I had been.

Part of the ship, the part that had been carrying most of the passengers, was gone with the chambers of the other passengers nowhere to be seen. Dimly, as I stare out into the now open area, I hear grateful words of relief coming from behind as the sound of a door being open notifies me that Shazza had found Zeke, thankfully alive and well.

Stunned, I walk outside only to be immediately hit by the heat as waves of hot air suddenly permeates through my clothes-all thick because of how cold it had been the day I had boarded the Hunter Gratzner. Sweating slightly now I step further out into the open and take in the barren landscape, my eyes squinting as I adjusted to the violent change in light.

There's nothing before me but earth, dry, hard, and slightly gritty to walk on. No matter where I turn that's all I see. Dirt and, of course, what's left of the ship. It reminds me of something I had once seen in book about Earth. There had been a picture, next to a page talking about different types of biomes native to the Terrestrial planet, of a barren landscape similar to the one I'm seeing now, the picture only differentiable by the various shrubbery that had stubbornly poked through the hard soil and the mountains that had peeked through in the far off distance.

It's as I'm thinking of this that the heat begins to get uncomfortable; the bulky jacket I'm wearing starts to boil me as sweat slowly forms on my body, making my clothes stick and itch my skin. Wiping my hand across my sweaty forehead I decide to head back into the shade of the ship, my body and mind unable to take any more of the scorching planet until I discard the now burdensome leather fabric.

The shade is cool relief as I step back inside the ship. Hurriedly I pull the jacket off my body, immediately feeling ten pounds lighter and definitely less hot. As the leather slides off my arms I wince as the bruises decorating my body protest at the action of removing the piece of clothing. Dropping the jacket on the floor I'm left in nothing but a loose t-shirt and cargo pants-slightly loose even with the belt that had been tightened to the last notch. Sighing in relief, I place my hands on my hips then look down at myself to inspect the injuries that I had obtained during the crash.

Again I can't fathom my luck; miraculously, the only major concerns on my body are bruises. I do have a few cuts but it's a minuscule concern when compared to what I could be enduring right now. Broken bones, fractured skull, loss of limbs…I'm pretty sure, considering all the head banging I did earlier, that I should also be in a coma. At the very least I shouldn't be conscious and I certainly shouldn't be able to walk around, fine, without a headache drumming into my brain.

It's as I'm bending down, my pant leg rolled up to inspect a particularly nasty looking bruise on my leg, that the most horrifying sound, of someone screaming in pain, fills my ears.

"DON'T TOUCH THAT HANDLE! DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH THAT HANDLE!"

I froze, shock keeping me still as my mind registers the notes of sheer terror, of agonizing horror that is being pushed out. Such pain…it's unfathomable to hear, to imagine what could cause someone to scream like that.

Biting my lip I look towards the direction of the sound, noting that it's coming from the front of the ship, the flight deck I believe. I hesitate, debating on whether to investigate or to simply stay here; I'm unsure as to whether I want to see the cause of such a terrifyingly painful noise. Just as I decide against it the screaming starts again, louder and more desperate. Rolling down my pant leg I take off towards the front of the ship as morbid curiosity piques my interest.

The scene that greets me as I enter the room is one that almost leaves me vomiting.

There are eleven people in front of me. Of the eleven, nine are standing: Shazza (the woman I'd met earlier), a tough looking aboriginal man (dressed in prospector gear similar to Shazza so I assume he's Zeke), an older man with glasses wearing expensive looking robes (who looked way too soft to have been taking a back alley route through space), another, regal looking, older man dressed in simple robes (his attire suggested he was a Muslim priest), three boys between the ages of 12 and 15, all dressed in a similar manner to the priest, another boy(?) of 13 dressed in a loose fitting, long sleeved shirt and a pair of baggy pants, and the merc who had captured Riddick. An unusual group to be sure but my horror had nothing to do with them but rather with the two people on the ground whom they surrounded.

There's a man and a woman. The woman, with neck length blonde hair, is on the ground holding onto the man whose head rests in her lap. She's panicking, her eyes constantly shifting over the man as if hoping to find some way to will away his pain. For the man, quite obviously, is in pain- immense, nauseatingly, unimaginable, pain.

Just a few centimetres away from where his heart is, a pipe has pierced through the man's chest embedding deep into his body. He's dying, gasping and screaming as he shivers in his companion's arms. Blood slowly seeps out from his wound, bubbling out from the sides of the pipe. Dimly, as my mind slowly shifts through the horror of what I'm seeing, I remember the pipe that had pierced my cryo-chamber during the crash and I can't help but wrap my arms around my body as I realize that this unfortunate soul could have just as easily been me.

Everyone's starting to give advice; someone tells the woman to pull out the pole only to be contradicted by others who wisely claim that the piece of metal is too close to the heart. I say nothing, unable to trust myself not to vomit should I open my mouth.

"There's some Anestaphine in the med-lock at the back of the cabin!" the woman finally said, a defeated look slowly crossing her face as she tried to make the man more comfortable in her arms. Though I already knew that the man would not make it her words seemed to make his death more final than anything else she could have said. Anestaphine, which I knew to be a form of morphine, would do little more than lull this poor man into a painless state that would make his passage into death comfortable and easy.

I turned with everyone else to look for the med-lock only to freeze when, in doing so, I discovered that there no longer was a med-lock. It had disappeared in the crash taking the morphine that this poor man needed.

For a minute the group said nothing, like me, unable to state the obvious in the face of this man's pain. Finally, with a loud clear of his throat, the older man with glasses stated the obvious.

"Not any more there's not." He said causing us to all look at him before turning back to the woman. A silent look of despair had entered her eyes, at his words, as she stared at the shivering and sweating man in her arms. Quietly, her voice devoid of any emotion, she ordered us to go.

Not needing to be told twice, and feeling ashamed at myself for doing so, I quickly hurried out of the ship, the rest of the group trailing behind me as I stepped back onto the planet's soil. Once again I was hit by the heat though it wasn't as bad as before now that my jacket was gone. Gritting my teeth, but making sure as hell to keep my lips pressed tight, I took a few steps out into the open, breathing deeply through my nose as I tried to calm down and quell my queasiness.

Death was not a stranger to me. My father had drowned when I was three and my mother had died of cancer when I was 18. But the death of this man was different than my parents. For one it was too sudden, too gruesomely real. I didn't have the ignorance of age to shield me nor did I have a warning from a doctor to prepare me for such an event. It was unimaginable what this man had gone through, to imagine the pain of a metal pole stabbed so deep into your body that it jutted out, while still being alive to feel every horrifying sensation. It was a mind-boggling concept, the pain that the human body could endure before it expired, and an experience that I was loathe to ever, ever, try.

Slowly, the sound of religious chanting breaks me out of my moment of repulsion and turning around I see the priest and his three disciples, or at least that's what I'm assuming they are, on their hands and knees praying. Praying to God, showing Him their gratitude for being alive? Perhaps asking Him to bless them in hopes of finding water and a way off this planet? I'm pretty sure, from the Arabic words, that they are indeed Muslims meaning that, if I am right, they were probably on their way to New Mecca-the universe's version of a Holy city.

I didn't mind Muslims-I found their religion fascinating in a way, gaining an interest when I first read about the conflicts that occurred between Christians and Muslims on Earth when Space travel was still limited to one galaxy. On Planet Six they were always kind to me, always willing to lend a helping hand and a friendly word despite the fact that my thoughts on religion-though still revolving around God-didn't quite match up with theirs. Generally, they were nice; they were certainly faithful to their beliefs and always trying to understand others through God.

I don't think there ever was a group that made Riddick more uncomfortable.

The reprieve from my repulsion allows me to notice other things about the environment around me: There's two suns-one red, one yellow-which explains the unbearable heat that's making me feel like I've been thrown into a sauna. Breathing, which I had assumed was irregular due to my shock, has now become quite difficult-it's as if there's not enough oxygen for me to breathe in.

"Anyone else having difficulties breathing?" the gentleman with the glasses asked, voicing my thoughts. He was a strange looking man, probably in his forties, soft looking with a thin nose, and slightly puffy cheeks. His head was slightly round and his brown hair was thinning, making his forehead seem big. He wasn't fat, by any means, but then again you couldn't call him fit. He was simply thin, devoid of real muscle, the result of living a life of luxury and comfort. I knew immediately that he wouldn't be much help to us if we needed to do some serious hard labour.

I looked around and noticed that, like me, almost everyone seemed to be out of breath.

"Yeah. I feel one lung short." Shazza said, coming up next to me. Then, after taking note of everyone's breathless expressions, added. "All of us."

"I feel like I just ran or something." The boy, the one not part of the priest's group, replied. His voice was slightly strange, almost feminine, but perhaps that was due to not hitting puberty yet. Then again maybe it wasn't. He certainly could pass for a girl with his doe wide eyes and soft, angular, face…but at the same time, his loose fitting clothes, along with the hat which covered his boy short brown hair, made it quite difficult to tell.

"Less oxygen here…it's going to make moving difficult…" I murmured quietly, as I looked up at the cloudless sky. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the woman, the one who had been holding the dying man, slowly come out of the ship, a tired look on her face while her eyes were lost in thought.

Hesitantly I walked up to her. "Are you okay?" The woman gave me a startled look, as if she didn't know what quite to make of me. Then, with a sad smile, she gave a shrug.

"I've been better." She said, her voice slightly rough yet calm. She was a pretty woman, though her beauty had more to do with the no nonsense attitude she carried herself with than with her actual features, which reminded me slightly of a soldier: orderly, calm, and reserved. Like Shazza, she had a tough look about her though her face had a bit more severity than the prospector woman-perhaps the result of her friend dying? Her clothes told me that she had been part of the crew; she wore a pair of loose, blue, baggy pants, a form fitting, blue, sleeveless top and working boots that all the crew members had been wearing when I'd boarded the ship. With a start, I realized that she and her friend had been the very same people I had seen fall out of their cyro-chambers during the crash.

As I was thinking this the aboriginal man, the one whom I assumed to be Zeke, walked up to us, indicating that we should follow him.

"There was talk of a party looking for other people but then we saw this." He said, in an Australian accent similar to Shazza, leading us to the front of the ship. He was a strong looking man, probably in his early thirties, tough with beautiful mocha coloured skin and a full head of curly, salt and pepper, hair. A beard and moustache decorated his oval face, his facial hair still black in colour, making him seem slightly older. Like Shazza he was dressed in prospector clothes, equipped with working boots, baggy pants and a long sleeved shirt.

A gasp escaped my mouth when we finally came upon what he had been talking about; just a few meters away from us, strewn out for miles to come, was the other half of the ship. The wreckage was a devastating sight to behold, pieces of metal everywhere, with billowing columns of smoke and fire coming from the broken heap of ship parts. Worse still, the cyro-chambers of the missing passengers surrounded the burning metal in a hap hazard fashion, all of them destroyed and beyond the chance of containing a fellow survivor.

It was official. We were the only survivors of the Hunter Gratzner.

"What the bloody hell happened!?" Zeke asked (I was more convinced he was Zeke when he wrapped his arm around Shazza, who had already been standing near the wreck along with the rest of the survivors, including the Muslims who had finished their prayers) as he redirected his questioning (accusing?) gaze on the blonde haired woman.

The woman shook her head. "Could have been a meteor storm. Might have been a comet." She looked at the burning half, a strange look on her face, as she shrugged. "I don't know."

"Well I, for one, am thoroughly grateful." Shazza said, still moulded to Zeke's side. "This beast wasn't made to land like this but…" she looked out towards the columns of smoke and flames, the colours of gray and red coiling around each other like two snakes. It's almost as if I knew exactly what she was thinking.

That could have been us.

"I think you did well." Shazza gave the woman a grateful look before turning to address us, eyebrows raised, berating us. "The only reason we're alive is because of her." She spoke firmly. One by one we went over to the woman, thanking her. Gently I squeezed her shoulder, shooting the woman a smile of pure gratitude that her quick thinking had allowed us to survive.

My gratitude finally known I wandered away from the group to head back towards the ship-the half that wasn't up in flames-needing to get out of the heat. Already I felt dizzy, the sun's blazing rays doing little more than aggravating my discomfort. Water-we needed water. I needed water or at least some form of liquid to ease the dryness of my parched lips, if not to replenish the water that I knew I was quickly losing from the beads of sweat that rolled down my hot body.

I breathed a sigh of relief as shade enveloped my body; I began walking further into the ship, planning on trying to find my luggage. As I passed one of the rooms, a familiar shape caught my eye-that looked suspiciously like my husband-stopping me in my tracks. Frowning I went by the room again only to freeze when I saw that my suspicions had indeed been right.

There, in all his glory, was Riddick, on his knees, both arms chained behind his back to a metal pole to keep him from escaping. His eyes had once again been covered by a blindfold. Worse though, someone had put the bit back into his mouth-it was as if someone thought him to be some rabid animal that we were all in danger of being bitten by. It was too much to bear. The sight was…it was pathetic, made so even more by the fact that Riddick looked anything but pitiful, instead appearing every bit as menacing as the chains on his wrists were advertising.

I didn't know whether to be indignant at the abuse he was going through or fearful that I still felt strongly for his wellbeing.

"He just escaped from a maximum prison." A voice suddenly said behind me, causing me to jump with a squeak. My hand clutched my chest as I whirled around only to come face to face with the merc who had captured Riddick.

"What?" I asked nervously, suddenly wishing that I hadn't been so hasty to leave the group. This was exactly what I needed, to be alone with the merc who was gunning after the bounty on my husband's head. Anxiously I bit my lip, glancing at Riddick, only to feel slight disappointment when I saw that he was unmoved by the merc's sudden appearance, still in the exact same position he had been before I had been startled by his captor.

The merc nodded his head, as if my nerves had more to do with Riddick than with him suddenly scaring the crap out of me. "He's an escaped convict…on his way to a triple max slam for the murders he's committed." I stared at him wide eyed.

"Murders?" I squeaked suddenly unsure of what I was doing here. Again I dared to take another glance at Riddick. Like before he appeared to be indifferent to the conversation I was having with the mercenary, his head still bowed down, staring at the floor. The only indication I had that he was suddenly listening was the slight strain that passed through his muscles.

"Multiple accounts. Many of them simply doing their job of bringing him in. I'd stay away if I were you. He's right dangerous." He studied me closely, gauging my uncomfortable expression-again it had more to do with the merc than the story he was spinning to me about my husband. "What's your name?"

Those simple three words all but froze every single nerve in my body as my brain temporarily imploded; to my knowledge, no one knew that Riddick was married-well, if they did, they certainly didn't know that he was married to me. Understandable considering that our marriage hadn't been public and I had started going by my maiden name again-oh wait a minute.

"Marty." I said before I quickly, very quickly, added. "Marty Flynn." I held out my hand. The merc stared at me for a few more seconds before a smile slowly spread across his face. For a second I worried that his smile was because I had just exposed my identity to him. Then, after he took my hand but didn't let go once the handshake was over, I realized with dread that this idiot thought I was impressed by him.

"William J. Johns. I go by Johns though." He introduced. I nodded, trying to tug my hand out of his grip. To my aggravated horror it simply tightened. "Interesting name you've got. I don't think I've ever heard of a woman being called Marty." He said, that same annoying smile on his face. I could practically feel the arrogance radiating off him.

I nodded again. "It's short for Martha." Fruitlessly, I tried to free my hand again.

Johns smile was downright cocky. "Martha…I'll have to remember that." I nearly squawked at the suddenly low timber of his voice. Dear God, did this man have no shame? Even if I wasn't married (again praying that Johns didn't know) this still was a, highly, inappropriate situation to even be thinking about flirting! For heaven's sake we had just crashed!

I shot him a thin smile. "Um…not to sound rude, but you did say that I should avoid the man behind me and since I need to leave the room to do that…" I looked pointedly at our, still joined, hands.

"Right, sorry." Johns gave my hand a final squeeze before, finally, letting go. Letting out a breath of relief, I nodded again at Johns before walking out of the room, unable to leave fast enough. I headed straight outside, making sure to wipe my hand on my pants.

And to think that I had always thought that Riddick had the biggest ego in the universe! Compared to Johns, Riddick was the poster boy of humility! It's a wonder that Johns can still keep his head upright! Seriously, what an egotistical jackass!

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, I was in the cargo hold with the rest of the group, shifting through our luggage or at least the remainder that hadn't disappeared in the crash. The task, which should have been easy, had been made slightly complicated by the fact that the container containing most of the luggage had been turned upside down, mixing up the contents into an unorganized pile. Thankfully, the backpack I had come onboard with hadn't disappeared with the other half of the ship. By pure luck, the strap had hooked onto a pipe that had broken off during the crash, securing the backpack in place. My relief was short lived however when, after flipping my backpack upside down, I discovered to my horror that all of my property (excluding what I was wearing) had vanished. My backpack, which had smartly secured itself in place, hadn't been zipped up properly.

"Damn it!" I swore softly, marvelling at my stupidity. All of this nonsense, all the money and time I had spent to make sure that I was on the same ship as Riddick, and I ended up losing the very thing that had made this trip necessary! Swearing again, I threw the backpack down in disgust, getting a curious look from the boy next to me.

"Problem?" the boy, who I now knew to be Jack, asked. During the past fifteen minutes we (that is the survivors) had taken the time to learn each other's names. I now knew that the aboriginal man was indeed Zeke, the man with glasses was an antiquities dealer named Paris, the man with the three boys (whose names were Suleiman, Hassan and Ali) was a Muslim priest called Imam, the boy-the one not part of Imam's group-was called Jack, and the woman-the one who had lost her friend-was Carolyn Fry, the captain of our, now retired, ship. I already had met Shazza, Johns and of course, obviously…Riddick.

"I lost all my stuff." I explained, hoping that it would sufficient enough to satisfy the young boy's curiosity. Though he seemed nice I really didn't want to say anything that could reveal my identity, unsure of how the rest of the group would take to me being the dangerous convict's wife.

Jack gave me a sympathetic look. "Man, that sucks ball." He said in his curious sounding voice. I nodded, agreeing with him that yes, yes it did indeed suck balls. When I didn't offer anything else, Jack gave me an apologetic shrug before resuming his search for the rest of his items. Letting out a sigh, I looked around the room, glancing at the rest of the group as my fellow survivors busied themselves in their task. Slowly my irritation ebbed away to be replaced instead by feelings of apprehension as I redirected my gaze back towards the empty backpack.

A wasted effort and now, to make matters worse, I had to deal with both Riddick and trying to keep my identity as his wife a secret.

The sound of loud grunting distracted me from my thoughts, causing me to look up to see Paris as he struggled to open what looked like a coffin. Frowning I got off from my knees and slowly walked towards the odd looking man, curious as to what the large container was. My eyes widened when I saw that I was right; it was a sarcophagus.

"You don't have a mummy in there…do you?" I asked Paris nervously, not sure if I could handle any more surprises especially if they involved a decomposing body wrapped in linen. He gave me a dry look but said nothing, opting to continue fiddling with a rather large lock that was attached to the chains wrapped around the Egyptian coffin.

A gleeful smile graced his face when the lock finally opened with a click. Eagerly he pulled off the chains before finally opening the lid with a loud thud. Anxiously I peered into the sarcophagus only to be surprised when I saw a large assortment of alcohol.

"Thank goodness it's not a total loss." Paris said happily as he uncorked one of the bottles and took a long hard swig of the burning liquid. I frowned.

"Booze?" I said as I reached inside the sarcophagus to grab one of the bottles. While I appreciated the fact that my lips would no longer feel as dry as the earth outside I still knew that we would eventually need water. In fact it probably would have been better to just ignore the booze especially since I had read somewhere that alcohol just dehydrates you faster-Oh to hell with it. I uncorked the bottle and took a sip, feeling immediate relief as the liquid soothed my parched throat.

Paris eyed me critically. "I'm going to need a receipt for that." He looked at the others. "For all of these. This is my personal stuff." I saw Zeke roll his eyes at the soft man as he took out two bottles before giving one to Shazza who seemed to be in agreement with her partner. I smirked at the two prospectors before looking at the four Muslims who were eying the booze enviously.

"Are you unable to drink?" I asked, remembering the Muslim couple who used to live next door to me. Imam nodded.

Carolyn looked at him. "I don't suppose this will help you at all then."

"It is not permitted. Especially on Hajj." He explained. I nodded, about to ask what he planned to do-I respected the need to follow one's religion but again Imam had three boys to look after- when Johns suddenly appeared right at my side, startling me.

"You do realize there's no water, don't you?" Johns asked in an irritatingly slow way, as if he were speaking to a child that didn't understand how dire our situation was. I didn't appreciate his tone-he was after all younger than Imam and I was pretty sure that the priest wasn't an idiot. The fact that he was just centimetres away from brushing up against my arm also didn't help my irritation.

Imam stared at him evenly. "All deserts have water. It only waits to be found."

"I hope you're right." Carolyn muttered as she went over to the sarcophagus to get a bottle. John raised his eyebrows at Imam.

"All the more for me then." He smirked, putting the bottle of booze to his lips in a way that, I guess, was supposed to be laidback and cool. Honestly it just made him look like an asshole.

Rolling my eyes I walked over to Jack who had eagerly put one of the beer bottles to his mouth.

"Good?" I asked as he chugged down the drink with gusto. He grimaced as he quickly pulled the bottle away from his lips.

"It's bitter." Jack admitted, slowly licking his lips before giving the drink in his hand a look of distain. "And it burns."

I chuckled. "You'll get used to it." He gave the bottle another frown before, slowly, putting it back to his lips, drinking with much less enthusiasm than before. I gave him an amused smile at how cautiously he handled the drink.

Still smiling I turned my head to gaze at the rest of the small group. Everyone, minus Imam and his boys, had a bottle of alcohol in their hands that they eagerly consumed, trying to fight off the thirst and the heat for a bit longer.

My own bottle of alcohol rested in my hands-relatively full despite the sip I had taken earlier. As I looked down, watching as small bubbles moved throughout the clear looking liquid, I couldn't help but think of Riddick, still tied up, unable to move, while he sweated in the heat. It wasn't fair-yes, he was a convict but that was no reason to not treat him as a human being. Just like us, he deserved to have something to ease his thirst. He wasn't some stray animal that had wandered into our care by accident; he was a human being equipped with feelings, emotions and the exact same needs as us.

But then again, why should I worry? After all, he hadn't bothered to worry about my wellbeing these past five years. Convict or not he still was my husband and he had promised to take care of me. "Till death do us part"-he had taken the exact same vows as me. Why should Riddick get to ignore the words that had bound us together as husband and wife while I sat here, worrying over him like some mothering hen, when I still didn't know if the group would tie me up like some criminal if they discovered I was Riddick's wife?

But wouldn't I be just as bad as everyone else? Wouldn't I be just as bad as Johns? I bit my lip as I continued to stare at the bottle. Admittedly, it only seemed to make me feel guilty.

Damn it.

"Jack, if I anyone asks I went back to the ship." I murmured to the boy. He stared at me in surprise.

"Why?" He asked curiously. I swore lightly to myself. What could I tell him? I stared at Jack. Could I trust him? No, it wouldn't be fair on him. He was, after all, still a kid.

"I need to get a hair tie from my jacket." I said then, at Jack's confused expression, added. "I left my jacket on the ship."

Jack looked at me skeptically. "A hair tie?" I winced; yeah, it did seem kind of…fishy.

"A hair tie." I repeated, hoping he wouldn't press me for more information. He continued to look at me suspiciously but, thankfully, he nodded. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Looking around the room I saw that everyone had become engrossed in conversation as they discussed the possibility of finding water. Taking care that I wasn't seen by the others (well aside from Jack), I quickly left the room, the bottle of booze clutched to my chest as I exited the cargo hold, to run across the dried up terrain, towards the intact half of the ship.

Breathing heavily from the heat and lack of oxygen I entered the ship, my boots making hollow thudding sounds as I walked through the makeshift hall. Rounding the corner I turned to enter the room where Riddick was kept in-

-only to watch, open mouthed, as he popped his shoulders out from their sockets.

Shock kept me still while I watched, in morbid fascination, as Riddick slowly shimmied up the pipe that he had been chained to. Dimly my eyes followed the direction of his movement, unable to comprehend his pain tolerance or his strength, only to discover that the pipe that he had been attached to had broken off at the top-most likely from our downwards spiral towards the planet's surface. My mouth still open, I watched in amazement as Riddick slowly brought his arms over the pipe. Then, with a sickening pop and a disgruntled noise as he forced his shoulders back into their sockets, he brought his arms over his head before crashing, on all fours, onto the metal floor.

I winced at the sound, the loud thud of his body smacking into the metal worthy enough to make even the toughest of men cry out in pain. Riddick however did little more than grunt, once again seeming indifferent to the pain as he stood up, allowing me to take in his impressive height of 6.2ft (I myself was only 5.6ft). Then, in a feat that could only be regarded with disbelief, he pulled his chains apart, breaking the links and freeing his arms and hands.

Flabbergasted-that was the only word strong enough to convey my emotions as Riddick brought one hand to his mouth; ripping out the bit in his mouth, he threw it violently on the ground, the offensive metal making a loud, angry, clang as it hit the floor. The bit taken care of, Riddick's hand then went to his face to pull down his blindfold, so that I once again beheld his devastatingly beautiful stare.

By now my eyes had widened enough to rival saucers. There was no way that what I had just seen was remotely possible. It was impossible-popping out your shoulders and then popping it back in? While shimming up a pole and moving your arms over your head?! No man-no human being in the face of the freaking universe could have done what Riddick had just done and not be in pain! Maybe I was hallucinating. Maybe the heat had finally fried my brain. I closed my eyes, counted slowly to ten, and then opened them again only to see Riddick, free of his chains, staring at me with his eyebrows now slightly raised.

Oh my God.

I squeaked when Riddick started moving towards me, my mind once again scrambling as I moved backwards only to end up pressing against a metal wall in my attempt to escape. Wide eyed I could only feel a strange sense of déjà vu wash over me as Riddick slowly invaded my personal space, trapping me between him and the wall. My heart, which had been racing before, was now jackknifing in my chest; my skin felt incredibly sweaty and hot; pressing the bottle close to my chest, I looked up at Riddick with nervousness upon my face, worrying my lip between my teeth.

He stared at me; his face was unbearably calm while his eyes were furrowed in thought, as if he were trying to determine how to handle the situation, how to handle me. Slowly his eyes moved down my body, reminding me of the first time we met. Not for the first time I wondered what Riddick was thinking as he took his time in assessing me; I had gotten thinner, apparent from how my clothes seemed to drown me out. My hair had also gotten longer, now coming down to my waist, though it still curled with what could only be called aggravating vengeance, making combing it each day a medal worthy feat. Deep bruises from lack of sleep had tattooed themselves underneath my eyes and my skin had become even paler than when Riddick had first met me-reminisce of living in a war torn planet. All of this, plus the bruises and cuts I had accumulated from the crash. I didn't need to look in a mirror to know that I didn't look good. Then again the life I had lived after Riddick had left didn't allow me much time to spend "looking good."

His hand suddenly grazed my cheek causing me to jump; the bottle that I had been tightly holding slipped from my fingers at his unexpected touch. Quickly, in a motion that I couldn't follow, Riddick caught the bottle of alcohol, the contents sloshing noisily within its glass chambers. I froze, once again stupefied by his prowess.

For a few seconds Riddick stared at the bottle, eyeing the liquid with an unreadable look. Then, in an almost calculated movement, he lifted his head to regard me with curious eyes, heat flooding my cheeks as his eyes met mine. Still looking at me he brought the bottle to his lips, taking a long hard swig of the alcohol. Against my will my eyes moved to his neck, watching how his muscles moved, as the liquid slowly flowed down his throat. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly feeling very dry, my skin feeling hot from a heat that had nothing to do with the two suns outside.

Taking the bottle away from his mouth, he regarded me with a strange look that was both guarded as it was open; caution seemed to radiate out from him as he stood before me. It was as if Riddick didn't know how to act around me anymore.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when Riddick suddenly moved closer to me, so that our bodies were just millimetres away from pressing up against each other. Unable to stop the squeak that came from my throat, I couldn't think as Riddick slowly brought his free hand to run his fingers through my curls before, with my breath catching in my throat, leaning down so that his face was slightly buried in my hair. I heard him breathe deeply through his nose.

"Gorgeous." I heard him mutter, in a voice so low I almost thought I had imagined him speaking, if it weren't for the fact that his voice seemed to vibrate throughout my body. I shivered at his tone, the deep timber of his voice exactly as I remembered-no that was a lie. It was a thousand times better.

His presence, his smell, his voice, his whole very being-it was as if the universe had righted itself again. It was as if I had finally found the other part of my soul, the other part that had violently been ripped out. Five years of torture suddenly righted simply by his presence. I knew I should have been pushing him off, I knew I should have been yelling at him yet…It was just too sudden… I couldn't think…

"Riddick." I gasped, as I closed my eyes. I heard him make an indistinguishable noise, barely audible, that sounded suspiciously like a purr as he nuzzled his face against my hair. I bit my lip, my erratic heart suddenly denying me the ability to breathe.

"Richard!" I whispered, calling out the first thing that came into my head. It was as if someone had suddenly turned on a switch. Riddick's whole body tensed up, his muscles locking in place as his first name left my mouth-a name that only I had been allowed to call him, that he had given me the right to call him by after we had taken our vows.

For a few seconds Riddick stood unmoving, his face still buried in my hair, our bodies still close to each other. Then, with stiff, cold, movement, he pulled away from me. Confused, I watched as a conflicted expression wretched his face.

"Richard?" I asked, my voice hesitant with confusion. He looked down at me, his eyes tormented as they stared at my bewildered expression. Slowly he brought his hand back to my face so that his fingers were pressed gently against my cheek. I closed my eyes and nuzzled his palm.

A sudden hiss of anger escaped his throat, causing me to open my eyes, in shock, just in time to see a look of irritation cross Riddick's face as he pulled his hand away from me and began walking towards the hallway.

"You shouldn't have come, Marty." I heard him say, his words low but still loud enough for me to hear the harsh tone of his voice. I froze, unable to move as I watched him walk, his boots thudding against the floor; he paused for a few seconds to leave the now half empty bottle on the floor, before resuming his walk, the sound of his boots becoming dimmer and dimmer as he left the room.

Five minutes passed before I was aware that I had slid to the ground. Wrapping my arms around my body I was dimly aware that I was shaking as I stared out at where Riddick had left. Lost in disbelief, I once again was unable to comprehend the man that my husband had become.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks for all your reviews! I'm happy that you guys are enjoying the story! Please bear with me for the next couple of weeks-I have exams so the chapters will be coming out slower. So sorry!

This chapter is a bit shorter but hopefully you'll enjoy it. **WARNING: THIS CHAPTER HAS STRONG LANGUAGE. IF STRONG SWEARING OFFENDS ****YOU THEN PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER.**

**With that being said, please enjoy and happy reading!**

* * *

I never liked fighting with Riddick. Fights with Riddick were, in a sense, pointless for me; for starters they didn't solve anything as, being a person generally unaccustomed to arguing with men, I normally gave in to Riddick's demands even if I was vehemently against them. Furthermore, they almost always ended up with me face down in a pillow, biting my lip, as Riddick "demonstrated", quite passionately, why fighting with him was pointless.

In the beginning it had been enjoyable-in the beginning I used to purposely get Riddick riled up. It was a no brainer why I did it. Riddick was already amazing in bed when he wasn't upset. Multiply that by anger and I ended up with a night that left me unable to walk for a whole week straight.

However, as our fights became frequent, I started to get tired. It wasn't that Riddick had become bad in bed-if anything he had gotten a whole lot better at making me grin. The problem was, whenever we fought, it seemed that Riddick never listened to what I was saying. Sure he would make comments related to what we were talking about, answer questions if I demanded if of him, but the final outcome of our fights were always the same-we always did what Riddick wanted. And what Riddick wanted, Riddick got.

I never pushed him if what he wanted related to work. Understandable considering he had a tough job and, sometimes, the most considerate thing I could do as his girlfriend involved giving in to his whims.

There were other things that irked me though. For example, I couldn't go to any clubs with any of my friends-he didn't like the idea of other guys "leering" at me. No matter that I would only be dancing with my friends, the possibility that some guy would try to grope me was still, according to him, very high.

Not going out dancing with my friends…sure I could live with that-I didn't have a problem with that…except Riddick didn't want to go dancing with me. In fact anything that involved crowds Riddick refused to do-not because he was uncomfortable but because he didn't like being surrounded by so many people while being limited to how he could "vent his frustration" should someone piss him off.

He refused to talk about himself with me-oh there were times when he would start only to quickly snap his mouth shut when he realized what he was doing. His childhood, his teenage years, they were all a mystery to me. And whenever I tried to ask him about it he would snap, quite viciously, telling me off in a way that left rivers of tears running down my cheeks. Of course my answer to his uncalled rudeness had been running to my room and locking the door behind me. Riddick's retaliation to my attempts at shutting him out had been to simply pick the lock and barge into the room. Not surprisingly this would result in another shouting match that, quite expectedly, would end up with both of us in bed.

Simply put, I was frustrated. I was frustrated that I seemed to be the only one interested in trying to deepen our relationship to more than just "dating." In fact, if I didn't know him better by now, I would have sworn Riddick was only using me.

Our biggest fight had occurred seven and a half months after we had started dating. I had been in a happy mood-It was my birthday and Riddick had taken me out to my favourite restaurant. We were outside his apartment door, my mouth glued to his, when I suddenly asked him to move in with me. His answer had been a firm, unmoving, "no."

I didn't push him-it was my birthday and I wanted to end the day on a happy note. So, without another word, I allowed Riddick to lead me to his bedroom for my "second" birthday gift. The next morning, while making breakfast, I asked him again. Like the previous night, his answer was hard and firm; he told me no.

I was irritated-understandable considering I spent more nights with him than I could care to count. In fact, I was pretty sure I had all but neglected my poor cat with the amount of time I spent with Riddick. To me it seemed logical that Riddick and I move in together; we practically lived in each other's apartments, why not make it more official?

I refused to accept his answer. A few minutes later we were shouting at each other, our voices loud and angry, as we tried to drown one another out. Harsh words were exchanged, tears had flown freely from my eyes, and Riddick had all but abused the coffee table that was in his living room. Our fight went on for a good fifteen minutes, our voices getting louder with each word. Eventually, in the midst of all the turmoil I finally asked. "Do you even want to get married!?"

Well, that shut him up.

Riddick looked at me, his mouth closed, his face still furrowed in irritation as he tried to come with an answer that tactfully answered my question. For five minutes I watched as he stewed in silence, a picture of frustration as he searched for a response that wouldn't further fuel my unleashed temper. Eventually, when he still couldn't answer me with anything but silence, I threw my hands up in the air with a disbelieving snort and walked towards the door.

Riddick followed me. "Marty-"

"Don't talk to me!" I snapped at him, finally fed up. I left his apartment, making sure to slam the door behind me with enough force to rattle the doorframe, and headed for the staircase. Less than a minute later Riddick had opened his door to race after me. He grabbed my arm, trying to stop me.

"Don't touch me!" I hissed, ripping my arm from his grip. He narrowed his eyes at me, suddenly irritated with my attitude.

"What the hell do you want me to say Marty? You want me to give you some bullshit story, that yes I have every single fucking intention of marrying you? You want me to lie?" He asked me harshly, his voice thick with anger. Fury shook me to my core as I turned to glare at him.

"I want you to say that you at least thought about it!" I screamed, stabbing my finger in his chest. "I want you to say that this isn't a waste of my fucking time-that "we" aren't a waste of each other's fucking time! I want you to give me hope! That's all I want Riddick! Hope that you care about me in the same way that I fucking care about you!" My voice had gotten louder; I was back to shouting at him again in a voice that was loud enough to disturb the whole neighbourhood.

He exploded. "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?" I flinched at his violent tone but otherwise stared at him evenly, my eyes fixed on his angry face. He glared at me. "How stupid can you-"Riddick stopped talking and looked away from me, taking in a deep breath to calm down.

"I care about you." He said through gritted teeth.

I snorted. "So that's supposed to make me feel better?" I stared at Riddick, watching as his face took on another look of disbelief. I narrowed my eyes.

"You don't get it, do you?" I said as I searched his face. Riddick stared back at me, once again answering my question with silence. "I don't want to be someone's girlfriend, Riddick." He opened his mouth but I quickly cut him off. "I want to be someone's wife."

He froze, his whole body stiffening; a look of surprise crossed his face as my words caught him off guard. Suddenly Riddick was the one in discomfort, the one who didn't know how to handle the situation. Any confidence, any arrogance, that he had entered the fight with was suddenly rendered useless by my confession.

He looked at me; his face had become neutral-a look he often employed whenever he was uncomfortable. Unlike me, whose emotional state was as open as a book, Riddick could not be true to his feelings-his face long since taught to rein in any "vulnerable" emotions; Riddick, who had enough bravado to flaunt his demands-to share his bed with me, did not have the courage to truly trust me.

It made me sad.

"I love you." I whispered, suddenly tired of fighting, suddenly tired of…well everything. "I love you…but I'm tired, Riddick. I'm tired of fighting. I'm tired of hoping." I looked up at Riddick with wide eyes.

Riddick's face was unreadable. His voice was just as undecipherable, strained with agitation when he spoke. "Marty, marriage isn't-"

"This is more than just about marriage Riddick and you damn well know it!" I cried, cutting him off. He fell silent at words, eyeing me carefully.

I glared at him, his form blurry from my unshed tears. "I can't be someone who's just content with having you by their side. I won't be one of those girls. Damn it Riddick…you can't even trust me enough to be yourself! Why the hell am I your girlfriend if you can't even trust me? I can't…I just can't…damn it!" Tears flowed once more from my eyes. Angrily I wiped at them.

"Riddick," I said through gritted teeth, breathing deeply through my nose to calm myself. Riddick continued to stare at me in silence. "I need more than you telling me that "you care." I need to know that I can always count on you, through thick and thin. I need a guaranteed promise that you won't run off when it suits you. I need to know that I'm more to you than some girl who you happen to sleep with. I need to know that you trust me."

I looked at Riddick; his hardened expression was starting to slip; his eyes were a chaos of emotion; his jaw was clenched tight.

I shook my head at him sadly. "I can't do this anymore." I started to move down the stairway, my feet descending upon the steps, when Riddick grabbed my arm again. I stopped, waiting expectantly for his next move.

His voice was a low rumble. "Don't go." Slowly Riddick rubbed the exposed skin of my forearm before gently pulling me towards him, so that my back pressed up against his chest and his face nuzzled my neck. Much to my disadvantage (well in terms of me trying to leave) he hadn't bothered to put on a shirt before coming after me; his defined chest was shirtless and bare for the whole world to see. I had to remember to breathe as I felt his abs press into my back-abs that I knew were rock hard and smooth to the touch…

"Marty, don't go." Pure velvet purred in my ears as Riddick's breath blew against my ear. I shivered at the sensation and I nearly moaned when Riddick's lips gently brushed against my skin.

"Martha." He said in a low voice, a husky baritone that I knew to be Riddick's bedroom voice. It was a damn good voice- he could probably make me jump through hoops of fire with that voice. I bit my lip, trying to clear my head, needing to clear my head. I gave a small whimper when his teeth grazed my neck, the feeling too good to ignore…but I needed to ignore it…because…because I was mad at him…

"Riddick let me go!" I gasped. He didn't listen, instead tightening his hold on me, enveloping me in his warmth. I shook my head, suddenly needing to escape his presence.

"Damn it Riddick let me go!" I yelled, struggling against him. "Let me go!" I twisted in Riddick's arms so that I was facing him, my glare directed upon his startled face.

Riddick stared at me in confusion. "Martha-"

"NO RIDDICK!" I exploded, pushing against his chest with a loud slap of my hands. Shock was on his face as I loudly and clearly rejected him for the first time in our relationship. I bit my lip, closing my eyes as I suddenly felt the urge to cry rise up in me. "No. I can't-not anymore. Just let me go Riddick. Damn you-for the love of God let me fucking go!" I screamed. Riddick stared at me, bewilderment upon his face. Then, like a match being lit, his expression hardened; his gaze became like steel; his tone was as cold and hard as ice.

"Fine." He released me from his embrace. Immediately the cold from outside seeped into my skin, striking out the warmth that his body had provided. Wrapping my arms around my body I stared at Riddick, his stony expression making me want to scream in both panic and concern; tears bubbled out from my eyes at the callous way he looked at me. At my distressed expression I saw a flicker of emotion-concern-pass through Riddick's eyes. His fingers twitched slightly, as if he wanted to reach out and pull me close to his body.

I shook my head, sobbing. "I can't." Biting my lip again I quickly ran down the stairway, refusing to look back, knowing that if I looked at Riddick I would break down and beg him to forget all that I had said; I knew that I would beg Riddick to forget my words, to forget the cause of our fight, instead asking him to hold me in his arms once more and allow me to plead forgiveness.

Looking back wouldn't be changing a damn thing.

It must have been around twenty minutes later when I finally allowed myself to break down and cry; stopping on the side of the sidewalk I shook as I allowed my tears to flow freely from my eyes. Oh my God, what had I done? Had I seriously just…I didn't want to think about it as I felt regret start to stomp my heart. Riddick, the man I loved…and I had just, in so many words, told him that I couldn't be with him anymore. I had just told Riddick to get lost.

I shook my head, my tears splattering onto my fingers as I held my face in my hands. Was I an idiot? Was I truly such an idiot? Damn it all, I loved Riddick! Why…why had I left him? For heaven's sake, it wasn't like I was asking him to marry me-I just wanted him to move in with me! So he said no-big deal, I could have waited! I could have waited for him to be ready, for him to finally realize that I was someone worth more than a, "I care for you." I could have waited for him to finally start accepting the reality of our relationship, to finally start trusting-

I stopped crying; slowly I blinked as a strange realization began to dawn on me.

Riddick didn't trust me. Riddick didn't trust me to be the person he could truly be comfortable with, the person he could confide his fears and pain with. I was his girlfriend of _seven and a half months_ and he still couldn't trust me-he couldn't trust my love for him. This egotistical, arrogant, cocky, jerk-this man who I all but bared my soul out to could not, would not, return the trust that I placed in him.

And I wanted to grovel at his feet.

My tears began to dry; my vision began to clear as I suddenly thought of all the fights, all the angry words, all the frustration that I had endured simply because I wanted Riddick's trust, simply because I wanted Riddick's love. I looked down at my hands.

When? When had I become that kind of woman, who would do anything, who would deny anything, who would be anything, in order to hear a man say that he loved her? Dear God, how pathetic-a relationship was supposed to be between two people who truly wanted to learn how to trust and love each other. It was supposed to be where two people compromised in order to better fit their lives together. It wasn't supposed to be a constant barrage of fights where peace could only be obtained by one person-and only one person-bending to the will of the other every single damn time!

I swore lightly as rain began to drizzle onto the cement, my clothes and hair quickly becoming wet as the heavens opened up.

Cursing I began to run, my feet splashing in the accumulating puddles as I looked for shelter. Quickly I spotted a bus stop, the bench empty save for a few flyers that someone had left behind. Hurriedly I dove underneath the glass shelter as the drizzle became a torrent of water pellets.

I was soaked; my hair and clothes were dripping. Pushing my wet hair out of my eyes, I turned to stare at the now desolate looking street, watching as the road became slick and dark from the water. With grim irony, I couldn't help but notice how the weather, the miserable weather, aptly matched my despairing mood. I shivered, wrapping my arms around my body in a vain attempt to keep me warm.

I didn't bother checking to see if Riddick had come running after me; Riddick wasn't going to chase me-it wasn't in his nature. Sure he had, in the past, brought me back to exert dominance, to force me to submit to him and recognize why resisting was futile. But to actually go after a woman and grovel at her feet-to actually run after a woman who had just told him to get lost? Impossible- his pride would never allow him to do such an action. Riddick did not apologize and he did not beg. And, considering how I had desperately pushed him away, I seriously doubted he would now.

Ten minutes later the rain had finally lessened; I slowly trudged home, my steps heavy and unwanted as I finally reached my apartment. Reaching my door, I put my hand into my pocket to grab my keys only to freeze when my fingers found nothing, feeling only the soft fluff of lint. I checked my other pocket, swearing when the action yielded the same result.

Unbelievably, I had left my keys at Riddick's apartment.

I wanted to scream-it was as if someone was slapping me with my own stupidity. Of all the things to happen after my fight with Riddick, I just had to leave my freaking keys in the apartment of the man I was upset with. Of all the freaking things I could have done, I just had to leave my keys in the apartment of the man who was upset with me.

Dear God, I was a right idiot.

I debated: I didn't want to go back to Riddick's apartment, already knowing what would occur should I knock on Riddick's door. Without a doubt, going back to Riddick's apartment would result in another fight-another intense fight where I would, once again, fall straight into Riddick's arms and end up apologizing for my words. Another intense fight where I would end up, once again, agreeing to Riddick's every single demand.

At the same time I needed to get inside my home-my wallet, my credit cards, my personal information, all of it was inside my apartment. Furthermore I didn't want to spend the rest of the day plus the night outside in the cold. Of course, logically, the first train of thought should have been directed towards my landlord, who had a master key for all the apartments. Unfortunately he was away, visiting his daughter, and wouldn't be back for the rest of the week.

Indeed, I was a genius.

It was for these reasons that I found myself, twenty minutes later, rapping my knuckles loudly against my friend's door.

"Coming! Coming! Hang on for one bloody minute!" a high pitched voice shrilled from behind the door. I stopped knocking and waited, wrapping my arms around my body as I shivered from the cold. A minute later the door opened to reveal the irritated face of my friend, Tina.

Her expression morphed into a look of surprise. "Marty?! What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be with Riddick?" I bit my lip at the mention of his name.

"Do you still have the spare keys to my apartment?" I asked, trying to keep myself composed. I admit I was doing a miserable job of it.

She looked at me confused. "Yeah, I still do-why? What happened to your keys? And why are you wet?"

"I got caught in the rain-"

"Why were you out in the rain? And where are your keys?" Tina asked. I closed my eyes, suddenly unable to look at her.

"D-do you think you could give me your keys?" I stammered as I struggled to make my voice work. I heard the door creak as she leaned against its frame.

"Marty where are your keys?" Tina asked again, concern lacing her voice. I opened my eyes to see her face, a worried expression upon her features.

I looked down, eyes glued to the floor as I spoke. "I left them at Riddick's place." My voice was a low whisper, straining to move past the lump of unshed tears that was starting to form in my throat.

"Why can't you go get them then?" her tone was one of confusion as she stared at me. Then, her eyes widening with realization, she added, "Did something happen?"

I couldn't speak, my voice unable to work past the vice choke of my emotions; I shook my head, tears starting to leak from the corners of my eyes; anxiously I took in a deep breath. Unsurprisingly, my distress only made Tina more concerned.

"Marty?" I couldn't hold it in anymore; I burst out sobbing. Tina's arms were around me in a second, pulling my body into a fierce hug.

"Sh, sh, sh…there, there…" Tina soothed, gently rubbing my back. I wrapped my arms around her and began to cry even louder. "What happened?"

I sobbed, my words erratic and nonsensical as I tried to explain. "M-moving in….f-fight…I-I don't…t-tried…R-Riddick….he…I…" Gently, she patted my back. I hiccupped, trying to control the two waterfalls coming from my eyes.

Tina pulled back from our hug so she could look at me. "Hey…it's going to be okay…" She stared at me with warm eyes, a gentle smile on her face as she spoke. "Let's go inside-it's much warmer than out here. And I've got tea. How about we go inside and you explain what happened over a cup of tea?" I looked at her, her form blurry through my tears. Giving another hiccup of a sob, I nodded and allowed her to lead me into the apartment.


	5. Chapter 5

Wow! I can't believe how many of you are enjoying this story! Your words truly are appreciated! Thank you!

Anyways, here's the next part of the story-I had a lot of fun writing Tina's lines for this one.

**Warning: This chapter contains, strong, strong, language because Tina has a potty mouth. If strong swearing offends you please don't read this chapter!**

**Happy reading!**

**Edit: Fixed a spelling mistake. **

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"So you were sick and tired of not being treated like an equal?" Tina asked, pushing her red locks out of her face. Not for the first time, I felt a pang of jealousy as I looked at her. She was truly a beautiful woman, with her soft, angular, face that nicely outlined the sculpture perfect nose and gorgeous, cat green eyes which made men lust hungrily after her. Her body was that of an athlete-strong, lithe, and tanned-a contrast to the weak sticks that I called my arms and legs. It was her hair that truly made me envious though; her hair was absolutely stunning, naturally red, with thick locks that waved prettily around her face, unlike the black mess I had to agonizingly untangle each and every morning.

I blinked at her question; I hadn't thought of it like that. "I…I'm not sure. I mean, I was just sick and tired of all the fighting…all the arguments I never won…the fact that we always did what he wanted…And then when he couldn't answer me when I asked if he wanted to ever get married…I guess I just snapped." I smiled nervously at her.

Tina nodded sympathetically. "So…what are you going to do?" I sighed and set my cup on the table.

"I'm not really sure…I mean, did I even break up with Riddick? I…I told him to let me go…I told him I couldn't do this anymore but…" I trailed off, my voice losing its volume as I thought of our fight, of the way I had yelled at Riddick, of how he had held me as I tried to go…

I bit my lip, nervously confessing my thoughts. "I…I don't want to break up with Riddick…I keep thinking I should go back and apologize-"

"Like hell!" Tina yelled, cutting me off. I stared at her, my eyes widening in surprise at her violent outburst. She glared at me. "You just told me you're sick of being treated as a boarder, that you're sick of grovelling at Riddick's feet whenever he's upset. And you still want to go back and apologize to him? If anything he should be apologizing to you!"

Confusion flooded me as I looked at her. "But…he did nothing wrong-"

Tina cut me off. "Marty. The man doesn't treat you as his equal. He doesn't appreciate you. He takes but never gives-sex does not count!" she snapped, seeing me open my mouth to defend Riddick. I bit my lips, my cheeks flaming as I looked down.

"He gives me more than sex, Tina…." I muttered, still looking down.

I heard Tina give a snort. "Oh yeah? Like what?" I looked up to see her irritated expression. Annoyed, I started to explain but Tina didn't let me finish. "Marty, your problem is that you worship Riddick. You think the sun shines from his ass-understandable considering he's the first guy you've dated who isn't a God damn loser. The fact that you consider him so damn untouchable means you feel inferior to him. You'll do whatever the hell he says because you don't want to lose him."

She picked up her cup and took a sip of tea before looking at me thoughtfully. "You act exactly like the guys I date." I rolled my eyes at her, irritated that she was comparing me to the men who followed her around like love-stricken puppies.

"I don't worship Riddick." I snapped. Sure I loved the guy but I didn't worship him…

Tina snorted again. "You once described him to me as "Ares in human form." If that doesn't spell worship I don't know what does." She took another sip of her tea. I glared at her, my irritation spiking when she gave me an annoyingly bemused smile. "Oh don't give that look. You know it's true." My glare deepened.

She sighed. "Marty. I understand you don't want to break up with Riddick…but from what you're telling me, it's clear that the man has trust issues. A lot of trust issues. Therapist worthy issues-the kind you normally find in men who prefer to "shoot first and ask questions later." Tina looked at me, a concerned expression on her face. "Do you honestly think he'll ever be ready for marriage?"

Her question froze the angry remark I had been forming in my throat, catching me off guard. I looked at her, suddenly wondering the exact same thing. Would Riddick ever be ready for marriage? I paused, frowning in thought as I tried to find a suitable answer. Honestly I couldn't think of anything that didn't' involve him accidently knocking me up.

My voice was a low whisper. "I don't know." I bit my lip, worrying the flesh, as anxiety furrowed my brow. Would Riddick ever be ready for marriage…?

"I'm hoping he will be but…" I trailed off, unsure of what else to say. Tina nodded, tilting her head in thought as she regarded me with serious eyes. I'll admit, I found the action quite annoying.

"You still want to get married, right?" she asked, watching me as I nodded my head. Of course I wanted to get married but at the same time…

"I love Riddick." I confessed, closing my eyes as I suddenly thought of a future without Riddick-dark, bleak, boring…no Riddick to smile at or hold close to my heart…

I heard Tina give an irritated sigh. "You don't know if Riddick wants to get married, yet you clearly want marriage. In fact, wasn't that your birthday wish for the past seven years?" I scowled but said nothing, heat colouring my cheeks as I was unable to deny the accusation against me.

Tina rolled her eyes. "Marty…you know what I'm getting at-"

"I love him." I insisted, vehemently cutting her off. She gave another sigh.

"Marty. It would be better if you'd just break it off-"

"I love him!" I hissed at her.

"And I love cheese curdles! Yet you don't see me stuffing my face with them twenty-four seven!" Tina snapped in irritation. The redhead glared at me, suddenly fed up; her face was absolutely annoyed as she threw her hands up in the air, irritation and anger in the motion. "I give up with you! Really I do! So what? You're going to go back to him, grovel at his feet, beg for his forgiveness, and then what? You're going to be his girlfriend for the rest of his life? Because, the last time I checked, girlfriend and wife, though similar, are two completely different things!" She eyed me critically, her questioning expression entirely unappreciated by me.

I gave an irritated sigh before folding my arms, childishly looking away from her. "I know that! You don't have to remind me-"

"Clearly I do!" she snapped, cutting me off. I glared at her.

"Can I finish or are you going to keep interrupting me?" I asked her in annoyance. Tina huffed in displeasure but otherwise stayed quiet, waving her hand to signal that I should continue.

I rolled my eyes at her. "You make him sound like some kind of monster-he's not. He's caring, and funny and sweet and incredibly sexy." I saw Tina open her mouth but I quickly cut her off before she had a chance to argue with me. "He's also hurt. Emotionally hurt, Tina." She closed her mouth, her eyes downcast in thought as my words registered with her.

I gave a sigh, unfolding my arms so that I could wrap them around my body. "Tina…I don't know anything about Riddick's past…but clearly it's not pleasant. He refuses to talk about his childhood or anything about his years before joining The Company…" Hesitantly, I added. "…he…he seems scared…" Tina looked at me in surprise.

"What do you mean scared?" she asked, her voice curious. I bit my lip, nervously looking at her.

"I mean…he seems scared that he's in a relationship with me…like he can't believe that he's actually…someone's boyfriend. " Realization started to dawn on me as I voiced my thoughts aloud. "I don't think…he knows how to deal with someone emotionally…how to deal with his emotions…he's scared…to be committed to someone because he's scared…" my trailed off to a soft whisper as I suddenly worked out the root of my problem with Riddick. "…to trust."

Silence hung over us as we both processed my words; my epiphany ran over and over through my mind as I suddenly realized just how much of an idiot I was being. I knew this-I knew Riddick was unable to handle his emotions, knew that he had a hard time trusting someone. So why had I pushed him away? Why had I hysterically shouted at him that I couldn't be with him anymore-that I couldn't handle being his girlfriend? With a grim sense of dread I suddenly realized that I was probably one of the few people that Riddick had tried to become close to. Maybe, and this wouldn't surprise me at all if it was true, I was the first person Riddick had ever tried to be comfortable around. Suddenly I felt like a…well frankly an ass.

Tina's next words cut through my self-chiding like a butter knife. "And your point?" Shock was upon my face as I stared at her unable to comprehend how she hadn't understood what I had just said.

She rolled her eyes at my expression of disbelief. "Yes, yes, Marty, I understand he's hurt and whatnot. But that still doesn't give him the right to be an ass towards you." She pointed her finger at me, her eyes narrowing sternly. "And you'd be doing him no favours if you go racing back to him now, after realizing why you two have been struggling for the past few months."

I shook my head at her incredulously. "Have you not heard a thing I just said-"

"Yes I have. And if anything, your words have only proved just how much you need to make Riddick realize that he needs to appreciate you!" Tina replied in an unyielding tone. Then, upon seeing my blank expression, she added. "Let me explain. You just said Riddick is scared to trust-that he had a crappy childhood and its biting him constantly in the butt. Now let's say you go back to Riddick, make up with him, and end up falling back into the same pattern as before only this time, knowing you, you'll probably take his crappy attitude with a bit more grace." She paused, waiting to see if I was listening. When I nodded my head, signalling for her to continue, she began to speak again.

"He'll yell at you, fight with you, be demanding, unyielding to your complaints-important complaints that affect both of you, and you'll agree with him, as you always do, simply because a) you love him and b) you'd feel it was your duty as his girlfriend considering that "he's scared to trust!" I frowned at her sarcastic tone-it was after all, completely unnecessary. Tina however continued to speak, oblivious to my annoyance.

"Maybe, probably after some stupid event, he'll realize just how much of an idiot he is and he'll want to marry you. Of course you'll say yes-marriage, after all, has been your dream since you could speak. Don't deny it, I've seen the photos Marty-your mother showed them to me four years ago when we threw you that party for your 17th." Tina added sharply when she saw me open my mouth, cutting me from my attempt to defend myself. I glared at her but otherwise said nothing, my cheeks indignantly burning.

Tina continued. "So, you'll get married. Riddick will learn to trust-but he'll learn to trust the wrong you, the wrong Marty. Not the Marty sitting in front of me that freely argues with me now and again and feels no shame about it because, hey, we're friends and I love you. Not the Marty who's actually an individual, with feelings, capable of making her own decisions, and not some robot that's been programmed to follow everyone's commands. But a fake Marty who's submissive, and unconfident, emotionally distraught…" her eyes searched my face. "You'd always be on eggshells-always trying to figure out what to say without making Riddick think that he can't trust you. You'd be miserable." She gauged my distraught expression, taking note of how unwillingly I took her words in.

She sighed, pushing another lock of her hair behind her ear. "Marty…you don't need Riddick-"

"I love him." I whispered stubbornly, wishing that her words weren't so painfully truthful. I looked at Tina, tears starting to form in my eyes once more. "I love him."

"But would loving him mean completely changing who you are?" A look of sad concern had crossed her face, her eyes gentle as she looked at my teary form. "Marty…You can always find another man-"

"But it wouldn't be Riddick!" I snapped, my voice rising hysterically. Tina stared at me, wide-eyed with shock as I began to cry openly. "I love him! Tina I love Riddick! I don't want to be with another man! I don't want to give Riddick up! And I sure as hell don't want to break up with him only to see some uppity, rich, big breasted, beautiful, girl replace me!" A sob tore from my throat, making my voice thick with tears.

Tina eyed me warily, watching as I took in deep breaths to calm down. Tears still leaked from my eyes, my words raspy as I forced my voice to work through my sore throat. "I…I'm scared, Tina. You said it yourself-Riddick is the first guy I've dated who isn't a loser. What if…What if I never find a man like Riddick again? What if…What if Riddick is my only chance at being happy?" I stared at her, waiting for an answer. To her credit, Tina said nothing, eyes narrowed as she watched me cautiously.

I sighed, wiping my eyes as I stood up. "I shouldn't have left. I need to go back and apologize-"

"Sit down." Tina snapped. She fixed me with a glare. "Sit down so I can tell you why you're now being a god damn, pathetic, idiot."

I stared at her, surprised by her suddenly harsh tone but obediently sat down. Apprehensively I stared at Tina, waiting for her to speak.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Marty. I love you. But for the love of God stop being such a whiny, miserable, bitch." Her eyes opened and I was taken aback by the sudden severity that was in the green orbs. "This is the other reason why Riddick hasn't been taking your relationship seriously. It's because of you, Marty. You don't trust yourself!" I made a slight noise as I stared at her in bewilderment. Don't trust myself? Where had that come from? Of course I trusted myself! I mean…didn't I?

Tina nodded her head, in agreement with her words. "I'm not disputing your feelings for Riddick or anything but…it seems to me that the other reason why Riddick hasn't been taking your relationship seriously is because you don't take yourself seriously. You've developed an inferior complex about yourself-you lack confidence. A woman who can stand up to a man and shoot off her mouth at him without batting an eye is considered sexy nowadays. I would know!" I couldn't help but roll my eyes at how proudly she said the last three words, her well-deserved arrogance knowing no bounds. Again, to her immense credit, she continued to talk.

"Riddick is a man, Marty. And not just any man, mind you that. He's a man who loves a challenge-he wants to be challenged Marty. Especially if it's by the woman he's dating. You don't challenge him. How can you when you're too busy licking his boots and looking for an opportunity to wipe his ass?"

Her next words left me flabbergasted. "Marty you're weak." Then, upon seeing my angered expression she quickly added. "And Riddick knows this. That's why he takes advantage of you, that's why he doesn't respect you-yes, yes, he doesn't hit you and treats you right, and all the other useless bullcrap that men are supposed to do for their women. But as a person whose opinions and thoughts should be respected? Whose opinions and thoughts should be taken into consideration? You said it yourself-you've never won an argument with Riddick. Never." I didn't say anything, unable to come up with a suitable response as the reality of what she was saying sunk into my brain. It was true-I never did win any arguments with Riddick and I did feel…inadequate whenever I was with him…

"Look, clearly the big guy cares for you. I mean he doesn't seem like the kind of guy who'd stay with a girl just so he could use her. But I don't think it's registered in his thick skull how much he cares for you-how much you truly mean to him. If you truly want to keep Riddick you need to start being more confident about yourself. You need to start respecting yourself and realize that you don't need him because, it is true. You don't need Riddick, Marty. You're much too good for nonsense like that. You need to gain more confidence and then, somehow, you need to show him that. You and no one else need to show Riddick that you're a woman worthy of being treated as his equal. A woman worthy of his trust. "Tina stared at me, pursing her lips as if a thought had suddenly occurred to her. For a few minutes I watched her somewhat guardedly; she shook her head, barely audible words muttered under her breath as if she realized that whatever idea she had wouldn't work.

She redirected her attention back to me, her voice stern. "Somehow you need to show Riddick that you don't need him to be happy. That he has to fight and work to keep you by his side. That simply demanding it of you won't cut it anymore. You need to show him that you could get any guy you wanted, anytime, anywhere. And I know exactly how you're going to do that." She gazed at me with a triumphant look in her eyes. Immediately I distrusted whatever it was that she had thought of.

"Marty." Tina said, smiling deviously at me. My distrust increased. "You're going guy hunting with me tonight." I stared at her for a few minutes, unsure if I was hearing her right.

"What?" I asked, bewildered by her words. Guy hunting-I had a boyfriend! Well…sort of…I think…wait what?!

She nodded her head at me, bouncing slightly in her seat with excitement. "Guy hunting! I just broke it off with Tommy-he wasn't working out. Too needy. So at this moment I am currently single and in need of a good royal fu-"

"Tina!" I gasped, colour flooding my cheeks at her words. She rolled her eyes at me, not amused by my prudish nature.

"Oh come off it. It's not like you haven't heard me say worse. Besides…it's true. Tommy wanted to stay "chaste" until marriage. Chaste…he's a god damn guy and I'm a willing girl! Jump my bones already!" I stared at her incredulously; despite being her friend for 8 years I still hadn't gotten used to her vulgar mouth.

Tina shook her head, before giving me a grin, complete with a full set of pearly white teeth. "Anyways, as I was saying, I need to get boned and you need to prove that you're not the hopeless loser you think you are. So…" She crossed her legs, hands clasped together as she leaned towards me. "You're going to come clubbing with me tonight." Her smile, as she told me her (what I supposed she thought it was) brilliant plan, could have been mistaken for that of the Cheshire cat.

I shook my head fiercely at her. "No."

"It'll be fun." she chanted.

"So is suicide." I snapped. "Besides…I couldn't do that to Riddick." I bit my lip as I suddenly thought of how Riddick would react if he ever caught wind of me hanging out at a club; he would, most certainly, be furious.

Tina rolled her eyes, unimpressed with my unwavering loyalty. "You don't have to sleep with the guy, Marty. You just have to get his interest, talk to him-you know to prove to yourself that your relationship with Riddick isn't a fluke?" I shook my head at her.

"Come on, Marty! It's just flirting. I'm the one who's actually going to get lucky tonight."

Again, I shook my head. "What if the guy's really interested in me? What if he doesn't know the meaning of no?"

She gave an exasperated sigh. "Then you kick him in the nuts and tell him better luck next time-seriously Marty, it's not rocket science!"

"I won't do this to Riddick." And I wouldn't. I couldn't-not when he meant so much to me. Besides…I didn't know if Riddick still wanted to be with me or not.

"Riddick is an asshole who needs to learn that he can't simply be nice to you when it suits him. Besides, you're not cheating on him. You're just…examining who you could have been with. You know, seeing the fish you didn't try reeling in because you wanted the big one?" She said casually, her tone light as she tried to brush past the fact that her plan to help me stop "licking Riddick's boots" would involve flirting with someone who wasn't my boyfriend. Who, most likely, wasn't tall and tan, with a sexy smile, and a deep, make your loins ache, laugh. Who, most likely, didn't have muscles that could rival Hercules himself, or an, adorably awkward, caring side that made him give you his jacket on cold nights. And, most certainly, who didn't have beautiful, soul searing, eyes that showed immense passion-passion which allowed him to kiss you in ways you never knew possible, in ways that made you feel cherished, wanted, protected, feminine…

No, I couldn't do it. Not now, not ever.

"It's still not right." I said quietly, biting my lip.

Tina gave an exasperated sigh and threw up her hands in the air. "Then come to give me company! We haven't been out in ages-not since Riddick pitched a fit about me wanting to take you out for a few drinks at the club!" I winced, remembering that night clearly; it had been five months after we had started dating and Tina had wanted to take me out to celebrate the promotion that her boss had finally given her. Riddick, who finally had a day off, had wanted to spend the night with me, or more specifically, he had wanted to spend the night in my bedroom with me underneath him.

Needless to say, when Tina had showed up, dressed in typical Tina fashion (that is in very revealing but, oddly enough, tasteful clothing) Riddick had not been pleased-especially when he and Tina got into a fierce argument, both wanting to spend the night with me, both wanting their own way and refusing to budge.

It had been, without a doubt, not a fun night.

"No, Tina. I'm sorry, but…no." I whispered; anxiously I looked at her, silently pleading with her to not continue this discussion, silently asking her to drop the subject.

Tina gave a frustrated sigh, folding her arms in defeat. "Man…you're really a good girlfriend…it's sickening. I hope Riddick realizes he's a complete and utter dick for not having more faith in you!" Her voice was an irritated growl, a mixture between bitterness, disappointment and sadness. It made me incredibly guilty.

"He…he just needs to see that I won't…hurt him…" I weakly muttered, my words sounding unconvincing even to my ears. Tina's only response was a disbelieving snort.


	6. Chapter 6

Wow! Thanks for all your reviews, favs and follows! I'm glad you're liking the story so far! You have no idea how happy I am that people are actually reading this story!

Anyways this is the next chapter; I warn you, this chapter is long. Not as long as chapter three but still long.

**WARNING: There is one f-bomb in this chapter. If strong swearing offends you, please do not read this chapter!**

**Happy Reading!**

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"How, in God's name, did you rope me into this?" I grumbled aloud, for what had to be the fifteenth time, as we walked through the dark street.

Tina smirked. "Um, I didn't? Remember? That was all your asshole boyfriend's doing." An expression of amusement was on her face as she turned to look at me. "Though, to be honest, I didn't actually think he'd barge his way into my apartment looking for you." At the mention of Riddick, I gave a groan.

"Neither did I…" I muttered, still unsure of how to think of the event that had taken place an hour earlier. Honestly, I'm not even sure I want to.

It had been around 5pm. Tina and I had been chatting, deep in conversation about our time during high school (which mainly consisted of Tina dragging me into the middle of whatever mess she had caused), when someone banged, rather loudly, on her door.

We had both been surprised; to my knowledge Tina wasn't close with her neighbours (whom she had described as being either bears or frightful bores) and she wouldn't have entertained me for so long if she had a guy coming over. I was also pretty sure, considering that he was even more insecure about himself than me, that Tommy wouldn't have been bold enough to try and win Tina back (as guys went, he had been rather spineless and I suspected that Tina had only dated him to see if he was good in bed).

So it had been utterly shocking to find, after Tina had gotten up to open her door, Riddick outside on her doorstep demanding to know where I was.

I was floored; I was absolutely flabbergasted to see Riddick outside Tina's home-Riddick, the Universe Overlord of being indifferent to the people around him, the Master of the art of Obstinacy, was outside Tina's door looking for me. I didn't know what to think-I mean I was happy that Riddick had come after me but at the same time I still wasn't ready to face him. For all my big talk with Tina, I was still hesitant to address the issues that were making my love for Riddick so painful. Honestly, it hadn't even occurred to me that Riddick would be the one to cave first.

My astonishment, however, quickly turned into irritation when, instead of apologizing, Riddick had demanded that I "stop playing games" and return back to his apartment. Of course, I should have known better-this was Riddick after all and his stubbornness could put most mules to shame. The fact that I had been the one to leave him should have also given me some sort of clue as to how he would deal with our fight; Riddick didn't cave-he didn't apologize, he didn't grovel-not now, not ever and certainly not to women who had the nerve to leave him after picking a fight.

We got into another argument; I was going to apologize, truly I was, but I was still sore from our earlier fight and I had yet to start thinking rationally (the fact that Tina and Riddick had started fighting almost immediately upon seeing each other hadn't helped my emotional state either). I was also still sore from the tongue lashing that Tina had given me when I had tried to explain why Riddick was worth all the stress I was going through; my mood quickly became sour, enough to make a lemon curl in distaste, when Riddick's unyielding stance only seemed to prove Tina's point.

Needless to say, I was at my breaking point.

It had just been a few words of resistance-a few words where I tried to tell Riddick that I wasn't ready to yield to him, that I needed more time to calm down. Those few words had quickly turned into sentences of anger when, edged by both Tina's approval and Riddick's pigheadedness, I all but refused to give in to Riddick's demands. It was a strange feeling-for the first time, ever, in our relationship I was standing up to Riddick. The fact that my defiance only seemed to fuel and be fuelled off Riddick's anger had only made the whole situation that more stranger-I couldn't stop yelling and Riddick wouldn't stop yelling until I bent to his will.

It was downright frightening.

The climax of our fight erupted when my defiance had turned into accusations; I accused Riddick of being controlling and overbearing. I accused him of being a coward, hissed that he was a mistrustful idiot who was too scared to open his heart to anyone. I started to cry while I screamed that he didn't respect me, that I was nothing more than a game to him-a toy he used to occupy his time when he was bored and had nothing better to do.

I accused him of being a crappy boyfriend.

Throughout the barrage upon barrage of insults that I had hurled at him, Riddick hadn't said a word-how could he when he was too stunned to work his tongue? Disbelief-angry, hot, passionate, disbelief shimmered within Riddick's eyes, made his whole body stiffen, caused him to grit his teeth as he took in each word that I had thrown at his face. I could almost hear the words that were roaring through his mind; he thought I was ungrateful, idiotic, a complete and utter…well, bitch. After all, hadn't he spent a good many months with me? Hadn't he taken me out on dates, spent money on me, and shared his bed with me? Hadn't he…hadn't he tried?

It was no good-eventually I told Riddick to leave. I told him to leave and to not show his face to me unless he truly, truly, wanted to make our relationship work. I told him to leave and I told him to only come back when he was ready to start trusting me. And then, out of pure spite, (honestly I have no freaking idea where this had come from) I had told Riddick that I was going with Tina to the nightclub.

I will never forget how furious he looked when I slammed the door in his face. It was all I could think about when I broke down in panicked tears a few minutes later. Tina, of course, had been ecstatic; she had been so proud that I had finally grown a spine and told Riddick to "fuck off" (her words, not mine). And she had been downright giddy when she realized that I had, accidently, just agreed to go "guy hunting" with her.

I told Tina no-I told her to leave me alone, that it was downright cruel, that it was downright irresponsible and malicious, to make me go to the nightclub (looking for guys no less!) when I had just ridden one of the biggest emotional roller coasters of my life (of course it didn't compare to my Mom's death but still…). I point blank refused, threatened to throttle her should she ever suggest it again to me (I was still a bit aggravated from the fight) and then went to the kitchen to make myself a warm cup of tea-

-only to end up, about forty five minutes later, dressed up in the most horribly tight purple dress known to man, suffering in a pair of, high heeled, black sandals, while I walked with Tina to her favourite nightclub.

I am still trying to figure out how Tina has gotten me to agree to go to the club with her. And I have no freaking idea how she managed to get me into the dress-it was like magic. One minute I was in my sweats, comfortable and pain free, then the next thing I know my whole body's screaming as I'm somehow, magically, forced into a dress that's literally squeezing the breath out of me.

"That still doesn't explain why I'm going with you to the club…or why I'm dressed like a stripper-seriously how did you even get me into this thing? I don't even…" I trailed off, shaking my head in dismayed wonder as I tried to, once again, figure out the mystery behind the purple dress.

Tina waggled her eyebrows at me. "Just call me Houdini." She smirked as she appraised her handy work, going over my makeup (that she had artfully plastered onto my face) and the loose bun that she had forced my hair into. "Besides, you don't look like a stripper-trust me, you'd be wearing a lot less clothing if I wanted to turn you into a pole dancing bimbo."

I rolled my eyes at her. "That's very comforting to know." My voice was incredibly dry as I tugged at the hem of my dress, the material riding up to reveal more thigh than I was comfortable with. "Did you really have to put me in a dress that's so…revealing?" I grimaced when the dress refused to go lower than the middle of my thigh. At the action, Tina rolled her eyes.

"For God sake, Marty! Stop being such a prude!" She berated. I glared at her.

"It's short!"

"It's the perfect length!" she shot back, her heels clicking in time with the irritated movement of her hands. "I've seen girls wear dresses way shorter-hell, I own a few dresses that are way shorter than the one you're wearing!" Tina stared at me pointedly, waiting for my reaction, only to give a frustrated sigh when I refused to talk.

She placed her hands on her hips, scowling as she looked at me. "Seriously, Marty, its fine-you look fine, better than fine actually!" Tina's voice was full of confidence as she assessed me, nodding in approval at what she saw.

I sighed, not the least bit swayed by the obligatory compliment. "Can't I…Can't I just go home?" I stared at her pleadingly, trying to convey how desperately I wanted to just go to my apartment and isolate myself underneath my sheets.

Tina shook her head. "Nope. You already said you're going. And, knowing that prick, I'm pretty sure Riddick's going to search all the nightclubs in the city, looking for you." I gave another sigh, a bit more frustrated than before.

"And, what is wrong with me staying at home while Riddick searches for me?" I asked, shivering from the cold. Unconsciously, I wrapped my arms around my body.

Tina gave me a look of disproval. "You're trying to prove to Riddick that you don't need him-that you're independent, confident. That you're a woman who doesn't need to bend over backwards for others in order to get what she wants."

"I'm not any of those things-at least not the confident part." I muttered, biting my lip. Tina scowled at me.

"You mean, you're not any of these things_ yet_. Yet, being the keyword here, Marty. Trust me, by the time this night is through you'll be able to boss people around without batting an eyelash!" She assured, her smile completely and utterly dauntless.

I shook my head at her words. "It's not that simple."

"Sure it is." Tina said, pushing a stray lock of red behind her ear. "You just need to trust me."

I gave her a dry look. "I trust you…it's just..." I paused, searching for the right words to describe my unease. "…this…this…doesn't seem right Tina-"

"You're not cheating on Riddick." Tina snapped, completely reading me like an open book.

I gave her an annoyed look. "Can I finish talking? Or are you going to keep interrupting me-"

"When was the last time you did something for yourself?" Tina asked, cutting me off again much to my surprise. She gave me a hard look. "When was the last time you did something without Riddick's God damn approval? When Marty, when?" I fell silent at her words; suddenly I didn't want to talk anymore. Suddenly I felt incredibly tired. Seriously, what was I doing here? What, in God's name, was I doing here? Didn't I want to make up with Riddick? I mean, I had already decided that I was going to apologize to Riddick before he had unexpectedly shown up. How had apologizing turned into yet another fight? Were Riddick and I…really that incompatible? I bit my lip, worrying the flesh in agitation.

At my silence, she gave me an exasperated look, throwing her hands up in the air. "Seriously, Marty…your life doesn't need to revolve around Riddick!" Again, I said nothing, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge what she was saying, much to her frustration.

"Marty-"she began but I closed my eyes and shook my head.

"I'm going home." I muttered. I turned to gaze at Tina's disbelieving expression. "I can't do this…I'm going home, Tina."

She shook her head, incredulous of what I was telling her. "You can't be serious-"

I nodded. "I am. I'm sorry, I know you're only trying to help but…but Riddick doesn't deserve this. No one deserves this, Tina, no matter how…stubborn...or aggravating they may be." I gave her a weak smile before turning to walk in the other direction. "I'll phone you in the morning, okay?"

"Marty! Marty, you can't be serious-Marty!" Tina yelled after me. I waved my hand at her.

"Have fun, okay?" I replied as I began walking away from Tina, pretending to be oblivious to the desperate, dumbfounded, expression on her face. I had only taken a couple of steps when her voice suddenly pierced through the air.

"Tenth grade. Lunchtime. Carl Simon."

I froze; my feet halted to a stop as the words registered in my mind. Slowly, ever so slowly, I turned around to face Tina who had a determined expression on her face, both hands placed firmly on her hips. It was a look that I knew quite well, a look that had gotten me dragged into trouble countless times before.

Vehemently, I shook my head. "No." Tina narrowed her eyes at me.

"I had to shave my head."

"No."

"I got suspended."

"Not listening."

"My parents wouldn't let me out of the house-do you remember that, Marty? For six whole months I was cooped up at home, bored and miserable, forced to endure lecture upon lecture upon lecture because I had helped you out, as _your best friend_." Tina said, making sure to emphasize the "best friend" part. She paused for a bit, lips pursed in thought, before she slowly leaned slightly towards me. "Carl wouldn't leave me alone for months-"

"Tina!" I whined. The redhead shot me a merciless look.

"You owe me." She said simply, folding her arms.

I stared at her, not believing what I was hearing; Carl Simons…now that was a name I'd rather forget. A high school senior heart throb during my grade ten year, he was the most popular guy in school; girls adored him, guys wanted to be around him and even the teachers were fond of him. He was the kind of guy that could be friends with anyone he wanted (that didn't necessarily mean he would be your friend), the kind of guy who got by on his good looks and incredible athletic abilities-the jock that all coaches just knew would make it big in the sports world. Sure he was intelligent (he was surprisingly good in chemistry and English)…but what did that matter when he was the star of both the football and soccer team and had the face of Adonis?

Carl Simons…he could get any girl he wanted. He_ had_ gotten any girl he'd wanted, anytime, anywhere; at parties he was always lip-locked with some girl that had been lucky enough to get his attention. He would leave his practices with a cheerleader hanging on each of his arms and could coax even the most studious of girls to ditch class for a more "private" session with him. He didn't have a type-Goths, jocks, nerds, outcasts, cheerleaders, air heads…Carl had gone after them all and he had always, always, returned to his friends victorious. He was, without a doubt, a God blessed chick magnet.

And then he tried going after me.

I don't know what it was-Tina's warnings, my insecurity around guys, the trauma I had endured whenever Tina got a new boyfriend-but I never felt comfortable around Carl; whenever he tried flirting with me I became uneasy and incredibly agitated. It wasn't a nice feeling (certainly nothing compared to the wonderful feelings I got with Riddick) and it made me try to avoid him at every single possible opportunity. Carl, having never been rejected before in his life, had mistaken my "vanishing acts" as bouts of insecurity-after all, I was a plain, shy, tenth grader and he was the high school King. Obviously, I had to be feeling overwhelmed, perhaps even unworthy of such a "fine specimen" (the girls in my school were very generous whenever they described Carl). So, undeterred, he continued to pursue me.

Eventually, he began to realize that I was serious; I didn't want to be with him. To say that this tidbit of information had shocked him would have been an understatement. He was absolutely stunned, uncomprehending-after all he was Carl Simon, the high school King, adored by everyone he met. To not be wanted was one thing, but to not be wanted by a tenth grader? Unacceptable, shameful even. It was a complete and utter blow to the huge ego that had been cultivated since his birth.

I wish I could say I was exaggerating, truly I do, but Carl became obsessed with me. My rejection had made me, in his eyes, the most desirable girl in the whole entire school. He would meet me between classes, had forced his friends to sit with me (most of them only agreed when they realized that I was friends with Tina) and made sure to try and spend all his free time by my side. I couldn't breathe without him hovering over me and I couldn't be around anyone else without Carl stifling me. My home, my place of sanctuary, wasn't even safe from Carl; he had gotten my address and had insisted on walking me to and from the school every single freaking day. So great was his obsession that, aside from Tina, I had become alienated from everyone around me; no one wanted to be around me anymore, some because of fear, others because of jealousy. I was completely and utterly miserable.

Tina had been my saviour. Just as sick and tired of Carl's harassment, she had devised a risky plan to free me of the jock's unwanted attention. I won't go into the details but it had landed her, along with three other girls, in suspension and had forced the school cafeteria to be shut down for at least a month. Carl had also stopped stalking me-good news for me, bad news for Tina. He had turned his attention to her and for three months Tina had endured being harassed by the overbearing athlete. Eventually, he did back off, though it taken Tina punching him in the face, breaking his perfect nose in the process, for him to realize that they just weren't "meant to be."

Tina fixed me with a glare. "You owe me." Her tone was firm and resolute.

For a few minutes I stared at her, a look of irritated disbelief on my face as I tried to come up with the words, the excuses, which would allow me to go home. My irritation only got more pronounced when, after five minutes of grasping at empty, thoughtless, air, I realized that I was cornered. No matter what I said, no matter what reason I came up with, the fact still remained.

I owed Tina.

I gave her a look of pure ire, the straps of my sandals digging into my skin, as I began to walk in the direction of the nightclub. "Just so you know…you are an awful, awful, person." Tina just grinned at me, the white of her teeth flashing, as she playfully swung her arm around my shoulder.

She gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Just trust me."

So that's exactly what I did.

* * *

Thirty minutes later I was sitting at a table, a drink in my hand, as music blasted through the nightclub's speakers. Tina was sitting with me, slightly tipsy from her third shot of tequila, as she chatted with a blonde haired guy sitting beside her-the only guy who had been bold enough to stop by our table and strike up a conversation with my man-eating friend.

_Guess I'm going home alone tonight_, I dully thought as I watched the laughing pair, noting how Tina coyly placed her hand on the man's knee. I rolled my eyes, already knowing what was going to happen next; any minute now, she was going to bite her lip, graze his arm with her fingertips, before slowly leaning over to whisper something in his ear-yep, there it was, right on cue. Tina's-not-so-subtle-way of informing a man that she was interested in him and, judging from how big the grin plastered on the guy's face was, she clearly was interested. Obviously, someone was getting lucky.

At my friend's antics I gave a frustrated sigh, the scene all too familiar; how many times had I gone out with Tina only to end up feeling like a third wheel when she, once again, ended up attracting the attention of some handsome stranger? How many times had Tina tried to take me out somewhere, tried to spend some time with me, only to get distracted by the first good looking man that we met? I knew Tina meant well but still it was annoying-I mean, it wasn't like I had asked to come. She had forced me to join her! Not the other way around!

Giving the redhead another irritated look, I took a sip from my drink only to realize that it was empty save for a few desolate looking ice cubes that were slowly starting to melt. Seeing the melting ice, I couldn't help but think of Riddick-he liked popping ice cubes in his mouth and crunching them into small, watery, pieces…almost like a kid with a pile of Jolly Ranchers. It was actually a funny thing to see since Riddick usually made a big show of hiding from me whenever he was eating ice cubes-it was as if he thought it was embarrassing to his "rough and tough" image or something along those lines. I didn't think it was embarrassing; I actually found it quite endearing.

Riddick had other quirks; he liked burying his face in my hair after we made love, often times falling asleep with my black curls surrounding his face. If I scratched his head he became as content and relaxed as a purring cat, and just as cuddly-I often got more affection (affection that didn't involve sex or anything related to sex) from Riddick whenever I scratched his head. He hated tea; he thought it was too bland tasting and he couldn't stand the few flavoured teas that he had tried. His coffee, which he took every morning before heading to work, had to be straight black. That was another thing about Riddick-he didn't like sugar or anything sweet.

He could wake up at the crack of dawn without an alarm clock, a habit that had he picked up as a child. Animals loved him-an "animal thing" he'd once told me when I questioned him about the vicious dogs he'd sometimes bring home from his work whom, despite growling their heads off at me, turned into playful puppies around Riddick. If he was in the shower, and in a good mood, he would hum. Many times I had woken up to the sound of Riddick humming, his voice a deep and rhythmic rumble, completely content after our night of love making…

I blinked, surprised to find tiny drops of water falling onto the table. Angrily I wiped my eyes, swiping at the offending tears with my free hand. This was no time to be crying, no time to be feeling sorry for myself. Like it or not, I was at the club and it had been ages since I'd last gone dancing. Even if Tina had ditched me for some hunk of man meat, I could still have a good time.

Loud laughter redirected my attention back to Tina who was now sitting in the guy's lap…Who had his hand on her butt. I blinked. Well, that was fast.

Tina laughed again and leaned in to nip at the guy's ear, igniting a deep blush across his cheeks which Tina quickly mirrored when he moved to kiss her neck. Suddenly I needed a drink, the pair's accumulating display of affection making me incredibly uncomfortable and longing to see Riddick-

No, no. I would not think about Riddick. I would not think about Riddick.

My feet unable to move fast enough, I worked my way through the crowd until I finally reached the bar.

"One beer, please." I ordered to the bartender who placed the bottle in front of me. Giving him my thanks, I reached for some money to pay for the drink only to realize that I had forgotten Tina's purse.

"I'm sorry, if you could give me a minute to run back to my table-"

"Here, it's okay-I'll pay for your drink." A voice suddenly said as five dollars were slid towards me. I blinked and looked to my side to see a man, with jet black hair, looking at me.

I stared at him in surprise. "Are you sure? I…I mean, it's not like I can't pay. My purse is just back at my table-"

He shook his head. "And make you walk through that crowd just to get five dollars? Nah, I'd rather just pay for your drink. Besides," he added, casually flicking his eyes down at me feet. "You'd probably end up breaking your ankles from those high heels of yours."

I blushed slightly; I probably would end up tripping. "That…that would be quite unfortunate…" The guy nodded in agreement.

"You're telling me. Then I'd have to pay for both your drink and your hospital bills." He said, grinning at me before nodding at the bartender. "Yeah, I'm paying for her drink."

I smiled at him. "Well, then thank you...thank you…um…."

"Henry. Henry Black." He introduced. I nodded at him.

"Thank you, Henry." I said, picking up the beer bottle. He gave me another grin.

"No prob. Always happy to help out a pretty lady…miss..?"

"Marty."

"Well then, Marty, I'm always happy to help out pretty ladies like you." Henry said cheerfully, causing me to blush at his shameless flirting. A blush that got deeper when he ran his eyes over me, checking me out, and nodded slightly in approval.

His nod ignited a flame of conflicting emotions; I was flattered that he found me pretty; I was amazed that Tina's handiwork had paid off. At the same time, this was exactly the reason why I didn't want to come to the club in the first place-I didn't want to flirt with guys who weren't Riddick (honestly, I didn't know how to flirt with anyone) but then again, maybe I'm reading into this too deeply. Maybe, Henry wasn't really checking me out…maybe this was just how he acted with all the women he met.

Not for the first time, I wondered what I was doing here; the man before me was obviously a player-the smooth way he talked to me could have only been acquired through experience, experience that I clearly was lacking. He certainly had the confidence of someone who knew what they were doing. I, on the other hand, felt like a sheep that had just been mercilessly thrust into the middle of a wolf's den. Nervously I took a small sip of my drink.

He eyed me curiously. "I don't think I've seen you around here before-I've seen your friend though. She comes here almost every night." He jerked his head towards Tina who was now, from what I could see, tongue tied with the guy, whose lap she occupied.

"I'm normally home most nights." I explained, making a face at the redhead and her new companion. Seriously, would it kill them to get a room?

Henry nodded. "I hear ya-the night scene isn't for everyone. You either like it or you don't. Personally, I love it…but I guess that's kind of obvious, huh?" He gave me an amused smile.

I couldn't help it; I smiled back. "Just a little bit." He laughed before turning to look at Tina, raising his eyebrow at the very illicit make out session that she and the blonde haired guy were performing.

He whistled. "Whoa, they're putting on quite a show, huh?" My cheeks reddened when I saw that Tina had unbuttoned the guy's shirt and was now running her hands over his chest as she sucked at his neck.

"Great, just great…" I muttered in irritation. At my tone, Henry turned to look at me.

"I take it, from your very cheerful tone, that you two were supposed to go home together?" he questioned. I gave him a thin smile.

"Was it that obvious?" I asked, my voice slightly mocking as I looked at Henry. At my sarcastic expression, he smirked.

His eyes were teasing as he leaned closer to me. "Well, your lovely expression did help somewhat." His voice was a playful purr as he slowly shortened the distance between us. Though uncomfortable by our now close proximity, I tried not to let it bother me, pretending not to notice as I took a sip from my beer.

He leaned against the counter, his expression suddenly thoughtful, as he looked at me. "Is this going to be a problem for you? I mean, was she your ride?" I shook my head.

"We walked here, so getting home's no problem for me…but…"

"But?"

I gave a frustrated sigh. "Its…it's just that I didn't want to come here tonight. I wanted to stay at home. In fact, the only reason I'm even here is because Tina forced me to accompany her…" I stared at my friend, shaking my head in annoyance, before bitterly adding. "Though, I suppose I should have seen this coming. Tina has always been like Aphrodite when it comes to men…"

"Aphrodite?" Henry asked me curiously.

I felt my cheeks redden in embarrassment. "The…the Greek Goddess of Love..." I explained somewhat lamely, blushing when I realized how much of a dork I sounded. Flustered, I stared at the ground, unwilling to see the expression on his face at my words.

"Oh…I see…" I heard Henry say, causing me to blush even more. For a few minutes he was silent, then, almost as if an afterthought, he said. "I can't really say I envy the guy though…" I looked up at him surprised. His face was thoughtful as he looked at Tina and the blonde man.

I eyed him curiously. "What do you mean?" Then, my eyes widening slightly as a new thought entered my head, I asked. "Are you saying…that Tina's not your type?" Well, that was a first.

Henry chuckled. "Type? I don't really have a type. Don't get me wrong, your friend is absolutely gorgeous it's just that…well, how do I put it? If I don't have a connection with someone…if we don't just click then I'm not really interested." He looked at me, his eyes twinkling, as he spoke. "You see, love does not consist of gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction."

"That's…pretty deep." I admitted, staring at Henry in wonder; though I knew it was wrong to judge someone based on their looks I honestly hadn't been expecting such a meaningful answer from him. He gave me another grin.

"Yeah, I thought so too when I read it." He said, casually leaning once more against the counter. I blinked at him in surprise.

"It's…by someone else?" I asked slowly, feeling somewhat disappointed when I realized that my initial impression of him had been right all along. Henry nodded.

"Yeah, though don't ask me who it's by-I only memorized it to help me get girls." He admitted without a shred of shame, surprising me once more.

For a few seconds I stared at him, unsure of what to think. Then, without warning, I burst out laughing.

"What?!" I laughed, amazed at his audacity.

He nodded again. "Yeah, I saw it online one day and I thought, since girls eat stuff like this up-"

"Stop please stop-oh god! Hahahaha...!" I spoke breathlessly, clutching my sides in an attempt to quell my laughter. "Oh god…giggle…that's…that's pretty terrible…" I wiped a few tears from my eyes.

"And yet here you are, laughing your head off-thanks for doing that by the way. I normally get slapped whenever I tell girls that story."

I felt another urge to giggle as I looked at his playfully offended expression. "I don't blame them-any girl would be offended."

"Any girl...except you…Why is that?" he asked, looking at me curiously. At his question I looked away, saying nothing; I knew exactly why I wasn't offended by his tactless words. It started with a big, capital, R.

"Anyways," Henry began, when I still hadn't said anything. "No, I don't have a type. However, you've got me curious. Why'd your friend force you to come?"

His question caught me off guard; Nervously, I fiddled with the beer bottle. "I'd…I'd rather not say…" I muttered, uncomfortable as I stared at the ground. Then, realizing that I probably sounded rude, I looked up at him and quickly added. "It's…um, a long story…"

Henry settled into one of the bar stools. "I've got time." He patted the seat next to him, indicating that I should sit.

I shook my head. "It's…kind of personal…sorry."

"Oh." He said, his voice slightly disappointed. Then, after a few seconds, he asked. "Is it…is it something to do with a guy? Did you get into a fight with your…boyfriend?" I stared at him in surprise. Was it really that obvious?

"Um…well…" I started, biting my lip, unsure of what to say; I wasn't comfortable with telling this man, a stranger whom I just met, anything about me, especially if it involved Riddick. Sensing my hesitancy Henry quickly waved his question off.

"You know what, forget it. It's none of my business." He said, dropping the issue. Then, clearing his throat, he quickly moved on to a different topic. "Anyways, I have two dogs." At the mention of dogs, I smiled.

"Dogs?" I asked, looking up at him. He nodded his head.

"A Rottweiler and a German Shepard-both absolutely spoilt though I suppose I'm partly to blame for it." He grinned, his whole face lighting up as he talked about his beloved pets. I chuckled slightly, already picturing the trouble that the big dogs probably gave Henry-Riddick had made the mistake once of bringing home two Rottweiler pups to train and they had driven him up the wall with their endless energy. In fact, if memory serves me correct, they had chewed through most of his boots and had all but destroyed his living room…

No, no, no. This was no time to be filling my head with thoughts of Riddick. Giving myself a mental shake, I forced my attention back to Henry.

"…drive me up the wall and onto the roof but I love them so I guess they can be forgiven. " Henry chuckled, running his hand through his hair. It was black, like my hair but straight, waving slightly only at the front. Noticing his hair, I couldn't help but think of Riddick; he would need a haircut soon.

"The real problem comes with my cat." Henry sighed dramatically, resting his arms on the counter. "She's the real diva of the house-a powder puff princess who throws hissy fits if she doesn't get her way." Just like someone I know.

"A cat and two big dogs? I don't know whether to shake my head at you or offer you my sympathies."

He laughed. "Yeah, I don't blame you. Sometimes I wonder what I got myself into-especially with the princess. She can be a real nightmare sometimes, an absolute terror. I'll admit, there are times when I think of just giving her away to someone else but I'd be lying if I said that there weren't any good times with her. I guess it's the good times, the few moments where I'm shown the affection and trust that she's placed with me, that makes me realize that I could never part with her…" he trailed off, silent as he became lost in thought. Then, with a sheepish grin, he turned to look at me. "Pretty lame sounding, huh?"

"No…not at all…" I whispered, his words driving through me like a nail, as I closed my eyes; suddenly I was aware of the pounding music that hurt my ears, the hard uncomfortable stool I was sitting on, the two tight, too short dress that made it hard to breathe. Suddenly I was aware of how my sandals pinched my feet, the air which suddenly seemed too stuffy, that my beer had left a bad taste in my mouth…

"Marty?" Henry asked. For a few more seconds, I allowed myself to be consumed by blindness. Then, with great regret, I opened my eyes.

Suddenly I was aware of Henry.

He sat across from me, a worried, perplexed, expression on his handsome features. His eyes, a beautiful dark blue, complimented his thick hair and soft ochre coloured skin. A long and triangular nose offset his angular face and high, distinguished, cheekbones while two modest sized lips completed the look. He was averagely built; he was fit enough to show a slight definition of muscle yet not enough to make him appear intimidating. He wasn't tall, probably only 5'7 at most, but what he lacked in height he easily made up for it with his charismatic personality and cheeky words.

He was, in every sense, the kind of guy that most girls dreamed of having-the handsome, knight who could sweep you off your feet and leave you laughing with his charm and funny ways. The kind of guy who'd listen to you-truly listen to you-and not make you feel like you had to fight just to be with him. The kind of guy that was guaranteed to make you smile, every single day, for the rest of your life.

Everything about him was wrong.

"Marty?" Henry asked again. Even my name sounded wrong coming out of his mouth-it wasn't deep, or gruff, devoid of the rumbling baritone that reminded me of a prowling panther. Henry grabbed my hand. "Are you okay?"

I said nothing, looking at our joined hands; it felt wrong, his hand. It was too small, too smooth. There were scratches missing on his skin, callouses missing on his palms. His fingers were also too thin, too bony. Too…wrong-everything about him felt wrong. This whole thing-me being in a club, talking to Henry, still fighting with Riddick…it felt wrong.

"I'm sorry, Henry…I have to go." I told him quietly, freeing my hand of his, as I stood up. Henry stared at me in surprise.

"What? Why? Was it something I said?" He stood up, his eyes almost at level with mine despite the fact that he was standing. "Is it…is this about your boyfriend? Did my question offend you? If it did, I'm truly sorry-"

I placed the half empty beer on the counter. "You didn't say anything wrong."

"What, then? What is it?" he asked me, almost desperately, a frustrated look on his face as he searched my eyes for answers, making me feel guilty-after all, he hadn't done anything wrong.

"You said nothing wrong." I repeated, gently giving his arm a small squeeze. He stared back at me, searching my face, imploring me to give him answers that I didn't know how to explain. "In fact…you've said everything right."

I smiled at him, giving his arm another squeeze, before turning towards the crowd. Then, with his dumbfounded expression trailing my back, I walked across the room towards Tina.


	7. Chapter 7

Wow oh wow! I cannot believe how many of you guys are enjoying this story! Gah, you're making me blush with happiness from all your comments! Thank you! Thank you!

So here is the next part of the story...wow, I just realized that this is the first chapter where Riddick actually says more than a couple of lines...wow...Hopefully I got Riddick's character down right, urgh, he's difficult to write! Fun...but still difficult.

**Warning: This chapter has strong swearing! If you are offended by strong swearing please do not read this chapter!**

**Happy Reading!**

* * *

"Riddick! Put me down!" I screamed, beating my fists against Riddick's back. He ignored me, his grip firm and unyielding as he walked up the stairs.

I pounded on his back again. "God damn it! I know my rights! You can't just throw me over your freaking shoulder like a sack of potatoes-Who the hell do you think you are!? Just picking me up, like some God damn caveman, like I have no say in the matter! Last time I checked, taking a woman without her consent-without her fucking consent is considered kidnapping! Riddick!" He continued to ignore me as he unlocked his door and strolled into his apartment, his shoulders jostling me as my aggravated words fell on his deaf ears.

I fumed. "I can fucking walk-Riddick put me down now! Put me down you chauvinist! Put me down now! Or I'll…Or I'll…or I'll claw out your eyes!" Riddick snorted but otherwise remained unaffected by my anger, still having me slung over his back, as he headed to his bedroom. I continued to shout at him as he entered the room.

"If you actually think, for one second, that I'm just going to let you get away with this then you have another damn thing coming, mister-eek!" I gave a surprised squeak as Riddick threw me onto the bed, the covers of his white duvet folding into me as my back slammed onto the mattress. Angrily I sat up, trying to gather my bearings, only to freeze when my eyes landed on Riddick's expression; he was absolutely furious.

"Explain." He ordered, his voice a terrifying snarl-rough, absolutely deep, with barely constrained rage. I resisted the urge to cringe as he leaned down, towering over me as I met his murderous stare.

"Explain, what?" I asked, my voice a guilty whisper, only to give a frightened squeak when Riddick slammed his hand on the nightstand, making me jump.

"Don't you dare play any fucking games with me, Marty!" he roared, making me jump again. His expression could have melted glass. "Who the fuck was that bastard kissing you!?" I bit my lip, wide eyed as I stared at Riddick's enraged features. He had never been this angry before. Never-not when I had first fought with him, not when I had left the apartment, not when he had forced his way through Tina's door…Never had I seen Riddick so mad, so furious, so….dangerous.

I swallowed, struggling to find my voice. "I…I didn't…I didn't kiss him-"

"Don't give me that bullshit! I saw you kissing that fucker-"

"He kissed me!" I shouted, my voice clear and loud with desperation. "Riddick he kissed me! Not the other way around!" Anxiously I looked at Riddick, trying to make him understand, trying to make him see that I would never intentionally betray him like that.

It had been about an hour ago; Tina, who was leaving with her new "friend", was adamantly refusing to let me walk home by myself. Even in her inebriated state, she had made me phone a cab and then wouldn't leave me alone until I promised that I would wait outside until the taxi came.

Ten minutes later, shivering as I waited underneath the club's sign, Henry had come out looking for me.

At first I had been confused-did I leave something behind? Did Henry change his mind about me not paying him back for my beer? (I wouldn't blame him if that was the case) It was only after listening to him speak that I realized why he had followed me outside.

He didn't care that I had a boyfriend; despite the fact that I was still, technically, with Riddick, Henry did not care in the slightest that I was unavailable. If anything, it had only made him more determined to declare his interest in me.

There were no words to describe it…I was horrified, shocked, stunned-filled with utter dread. This was exactly why I didn't want to come to the club; this was exactly why I had been so difficult with Tina. Anxiously, I had tried to explain to Henry about Riddick-about how much I loved him and how we were just going through a rough patch-but it didn't deter him in the slightest. Instead, Henry began a long speech about how he liked me and wanted to get to know me better; he began talking about how he thought that I could do so much better (despite not knowing Riddick at all) and that I would be much happier with a guy like him. I was fretting, grasping for an excuse, for words that could relay to Henry that I just wasn't interested in him.

And then he kissed me; without any warning, without any regard to my feelings or what I was telling him, Henry kissed me.

And it felt absolutely awful.

Understandably, I was…well, I'll be honest; I was disgusted-angry and terribly repulsed by Henry's lips. It just felt so wrong-I just couldn't react with anything but anger. I pushed Henry off me, slapped him soundly across the face, ready to curse at him with the vilest insults I knew-

-only to watch, absolutely shocked, as Riddick mashed his fist into Henry's face and broke his nose.

The next few minutes were more or less a blur; I remember Riddick beating the living daylights out of Henry. I remember screaming at Riddick begging him stop, worried that he'd end up killing Henry. I remember the inhumane fury that had rippled through Riddick as he snarled at the bleeding man, threatening to kill him should he ever think of touching me again.

I remember being scared when, after snarling at Henry, Riddick had advanced upon me; I remember not being able to breathe when Riddick suddenly grabbed me, his eyes like molten gold as he stared at me.

I also remember cursing Riddick when he suddenly threw me over his shoulder, like I weighed nothing, and began angrily striding towards his home.

My voice shook with emotion as I scrambled to explain. "I-I went to the club. Okay? I did. I went with Tina…and I met him at the club. We talked, okay? We just…we just talked-"

"Must have been some fucking amazing talk-"

"We just talked!" I shouted again, tears starting to form in my eyes. I shook my head, suddenly not knowing what else to say. "We talked, Riddick. And then I left-I was going home, waiting for a t-taxi when he just came out of the club…he kissed me Riddick. He kissed me. Not the other way around! You have to believe me-I love you! Why would I want to kiss anyone but you?" I sobbed, looking up at Riddick pleadingly. His eyes were dangerously cold, full of unmoving rage, as he looked at me.

I tried again. "Riddick, I love you! I love you! I didn't…I didn't want to kiss him! You have to believe me!" I begged, my hand pressed to my heart as tears started to slowly roll down my cheeks. At my words Riddick gave a snort, disbelief on his face, as he shook his head.

My next words were just as incredulous. "You don't…believe me?" I stared at him, searching his face before desperately demanding. "Why? Why can't you…why can't you trust me?!" Riddick said nothing, continuing to stare at me with his cold, angry, eyes.

"Riddick-"

"How the fuck can I trust you, Marty? Tell me, how? Cause I'd really like to fucking know how I'm supposed to fucking trust you after seeing you kiss another man-"

"Do you even hear yourself!?" I asked, suddenly angry; I glared at him, my tears making his form blurry as I shouted. "You're supposed to trust me because I'm your girlfriend! Because you know me! Because you know I would never, ever, intentionally hurt you like that-that I would never kiss someone, never want to be with anyone, who wasn't you!"

"Do you really think…that I'm the kind of person who'd go to another man's arms just because I'm having a fight with my boyfriend? That, even if we had broken up, I could just easily forget you and find another man to comfort me?" I questioned, my eyes searching Riddick's suddenly neutral expression. His silence weighed heavily through the air as I waited, waited for him to say something, to do something, anything to acknowledge the truth of my words-the truth that he knew to be true.

I shook my head sadly when, after a couple minutes, he still refused to speak. "Okay…okay, then." I slowly moved to the other side of the bed and got off, stepping onto the carpet and making my way to the door. "Okay…I get it."

"Where do you think you're going?" Riddick asked, his voice still rough with anger, as he looked at me questioningly. He straightened up as he stared at me, his form, even at a distance, tall and imposing.

I gave him a sad smile. "Home, Riddick. I'm going home. I'm…I'm done. I...You don't trust me…and I can't be with a man who can't trust me…no matter how much I love him…"

"Marty." Riddick said, moving towards me. "I'm not letting you go."

"We're done, Riddick! I don't have time for…I don't want…please, don't make this any harder…just promise me that you'll find someone that you can trust…okay?" I whispered, tears starting to form in my eyes again as I tried to tell myself that this was for the best. That this was it-no second guessing, no going back, Riddick and I had to go our separate ways. We needed to go our separate ways because, no matter how much I loved Riddick, no matter how much I wanted to be with Riddick, I still needed to think about myself…even if all I wanted to do was grab Riddick and hold onto him till he realized how much of a stubborn idiot he was being. Slowly I entered the hallway and started to walk towards the living room only to stop when Riddick grabbed my wrist.

I tugged at my hand, trying to free it from his grip. "Riddick! Let me go-"

"I'm not letting you go!" He snapped, pulling me close to him. I struggled, trying to break free from his vice tight hold. It was a battle that I was sorely losing.

"Let me go-"my words were suddenly cut off when Riddick mashed his lips against mine, tightly pressing our bodies together as his hand fisted in my curls. I froze, stunned by the unexpected attack, only to find my mouth unconsciously moving with his demanding lips-moving in tune with the hot, passionate, dance of his mouth, the angry way he gripped my hair, the taunt, restrained energy of his muscles as our bodies pressed together…I knew what Riddick was doing; he was reasserting his dominance, trying to soothe his anger and reclaim me in the only way he knew how-through force. It was a technique that he often used whenever we fought, a technique to both silence me and to force me to submit to his whims. I knew this technique well…once upon a time it had thrilled me, excited me to newer passions. Now it made me feel cheap and like my opinions didn't matter whatsoever; I started to sob.

Shocked, Riddick pulled back when he felt me crying, my tears rolling down my cheeks in painful lumps. He stared at me questioningly. "Marty?" I shook my head.

"Girlfriend…what girlfriend?" I questioned quietly, trembling against Riddick. My voice was hoarse with tears as I spoke. "I'm nothing more than your whore." At my words Riddick's arms tightened around me, his whole body stiffening at the way I described myself.

His expression was unreadable as he looked at me. "You're not a whore." The words were deadly calm, each word said slowly, clearly and firmly. "You're not a whore." Angrily I looked up at him.

"Aren't I?!" I challenged, glaring at him, getting a look of surprise. "Because, if I was your girlfriend, you'd be treating me with a lot more respect! You'd actually listen to me-you'd actually listen to my opinions! You wouldn't use sex," I stabbed my finger at his chest. "As a way to resolve all our problems! You wouldn't just sleep with me then treat me…like some disobedient dog that needs to be punished whenever something goes wrong between us! And you certainly, without a doubt, if I was your girlfriend…you certainly would trust me!"

I was shouting now, my voice loud and painfully angry. Riddick became silent, his face guarded, his eyes a sea of emotion, as he waited for my next words.

I stared at him fiercely. "Why? Why can't you trust me!? Why, Riddick, why? Why is it so hard? Is there something about me? Did I do something? Did I say something to make you uneasy? Why? Why can you not trust me?" My eyes were imploring as I looked at him, waiting for him to answer. Riddick said nothing, his eyes stormy, gritting his teeth-in frustration, in irritation, in anger? I didn't know.

Relentlessly, I kept asking. "Why? Riddick, why?!" Once more he answered me in silence, unable to or unwilling to speak; his brow was furrowed as I questioned him, his unsmiling mouth clamped shut as he complied with his instinct to remain silent. It was this silence that angered me the most. It was this silence that I was, understandably, sick of. I didn't stop the volume of my voice from rising as I confronted Riddick.

"WHY?!"

"I DON'T KNOW HOW!" Riddick roared, his voice thundering throughout the apartment. Stunned, I could only watch as he suddenly let go of me and turned to face the wall.

His face was tormented, a perfect mixture between anger and frustration as he muttered in vexation. "I don't know…fuck, I don't even fucking know…" Concern welled up in me as I watched the angry motion of his body, watched the conflict that warred up inside him at his confession.

My voice was a low whisper as I tried to comfort him. "Riddick..." I started only to jump when Riddick suddenly slammed his fist against the wall.

"Fuck!" he swore in anger, the sound of his fist against the drywall painful enough to make me wince. Worried I grabbed his hand.

"Don't do that!" I admonished, running my fingers over his skin, pressing lightly against his bones as I checked to make sure that he hadn't broken his hand. Finding nothing, I turned his hand over, checking for bruises and scratches, satisfied when I found none. Tenderly, I placed a kiss on his knuckles before looking up at him.

Riddick's expression was absolutely frustrated; his teeth were gritted tight, his eyes conflicted as he fought an internal battle between guarding his emotions and thoughts from the world and between allowing me in to gain the trust and acceptance that I badly needed. Seeing his frustration I couldn't help but feel sympathy for him, I couldn't help but feel guilty about the discomfort I was putting him through. Seeing him so tormented…it hurt.

Gently, I started to rub his hand, trying to soothe his frustration as I spoke. "Why…why don't you know how to trust?" My voice was quiet as I looked at him, gauging his reaction to my words. Not unexpected, Riddick stiffened, his whole body going taunt at my unwanted question. Unhappily, I watched as he slowly began putting up his guard, the disbelieving expression on his face becoming neutral as he looked at me. I shook my head. "No…no, Riddick, don't…don't close yourself up…not now…I…I need to know…you need to tell me…"

"I don't need to tell you anything." Riddick suddenly said, his tone firm and resolute, much to my disbelief. I stared at him uncomprehendingly, stunned by his stubbornness…by how bullheaded he was being.

Angrily I let go of his hand and glared at him. "Riddick, you just told me you don't know how to trust. Trust which I have been trying to gain since the beginning of our relationship! I need to know why, Riddick-I need to know why you don't know how to trust. Because, even though I don't want to leave you, Riddick…I will if you can't give me a reason to stay." Again, silence. Pure, absolutely frustrating, silence-only this time, Riddick was looking at me warily, his eyes the only view to the inner workings of his colliding emotions. Getting no response from him, I tried a different approach. "Riddick…I lost my Dad when I was three. My mom…I lost to cancer when I was 18." Suddenly I couldn't talk. Turning away my gaze away from him, I tried to fight back the tears that were starting to form as I remembered my mom-beautiful and kind, forever suffering from the hand God had dealt her….

Riddick's voice was quiet as he looked at me. "Marty."

I took a deep breath to calm myself down. "I remember my mom…I remember what she had to go through with the cancer. It was awful-she was in so much pain…I watched as the cancer took away her strength…her health…eventually she got so weak, she couldn't even pick up a pen without getting tired…" I closed my eyes, tears spilling over my lids and rolling down my cheeks. My voice was painfully strained as I tried to talk through the lump that had formed in my throat. "…she never stopped…not once did she stop smiling…when she died it was sunny…sunny…not raining, not snowing but sunny…I don't know why I keep thinking about that…" My voice was bitter as I suddenly opened my eyes to stare at the blue carpet that covered the apartment's floors. Really…it was such an ugly shade of blue…

I still wouldn't look at Riddick as I continued to talk. "After my mom died…I was a mess…a real mess…I wouldn't have survived had it not been for Tina…she was there with me, throughout Mom's cancer, always so supportive…" I stopped talking; I took in a shaky breath, biting my lip to stop the sobs that were threatening to come out. Riddick didn't say anything as I wrapped my arms around my body. Suddenly I was feeling cold…suddenly I was feeling tired...

Shaking my head again, I began to wonder if I should tell Riddick about my sister-a secret so precious, so painful, to me that I actually hesitated to tell him. But then again, I was trying to get Riddick to trust me…wouldn't I be a hypocrite if I kept this from him? How could I expect Riddick to trust me if I didn't trust him enough to know one of my most important memories? Agitated, I worried the flesh between my teeth as I realized that, in order to gain any ground with Riddick, I needed to tell him why I needed his trust…

"I have a sister." I said quietly, my eyes rooted to the ground. For a few minutes, silence resonated throughout the air, thick as a blanket. Then, in a low rumble, Riddick asked the million dollar question.

"Where is she?"

I bit my lip again. "I don't know…" I turned around to look at him, my smile small and bitterly sad as I answered his question. "She left when I was 13." My voice was soft as I pictured my sister, beautiful and vibrant-the daughter who had gotten both my mom's good looks and my father's bold, daring personality…

"Summer was the oldest-she was the big sister that all girls wanted. She…she was so fun, so outgoing, so caring…she always took the time for me-always. I remember this one time…I was nine years old…we were having a school play and Mom couldn't make it…something about work, I can't remember exactly, but…I remember going to that play thinking no one was there for me…I got up on that stage…looked out into the crowd…and there was my sister." I smiled as I remembered that evening; the gym, recently turned into a makeshift theatre, had been packed and everyone's parents had been there except for mine. I was upset…sad…and then I saw my sister, with her beautiful, warm, smile, waving at me excitedly as she squashed herself between two burly men. "She had rushed from soccer practice-just left halfway through to come see me perform. There was…her clothes were an absolute mess and there was dirt on her face. She looked out of place…yet that still didn't stop her from jumping up and down, waving some ridiculous poster that she had made with my name on it, grinning and cheering me on…"

I stopped, suddenly wondering if I should continue, if I should tell Riddick the next part of my story, yet at the same time I had already started talking. To go this far only to stop…it seemed worthless. Besides, I needed Riddick to understand.

I took another breath, trying to calm myself, before I continued to speak. "When she was 17…she met a guy. A…a real…jerk. I didn't like him and neither did Mom but Summer was nuts about him…whenever Mom tried to talk to her…Summer… she didn't want to hear it. She stopped talking to us…began leaving home early…always came back long after curfew…she…she started to ignore me…" Suddenly I couldn't look at Riddick anymore; my gaze went to stare, once more, at the floor as it suddenly became hard to talk. "…eventually we found out…that she had gotten involved with drugs…Mom was furious…absolutely furious…Summer-Summer didn't want to get any help. She didn't want to help herself because that would mean…leaving the guy-the jerk that she had been dating for the past couple of months. They got into a huge argument, Mom and her, and well…finally Summer decided that she didn't want to be part of our family anymore…she was 18 when she left…" My voice was low as I remembered that day-it had been raining. I had just managed to get Summer to spend some time with me when Mom found her stash of cocaine. Up until that moment, I had never seen my gentle mother so…furious, so hell bent on throttling my sister...The fight had been terrible-Summer and Mom kept yelling, so loudly that I actually had to cover my ears. They were so loud, so angry, that I was actually scared. Eventually, just when I thought the fight would never end, Summer had shouted something (to this day I still don't know what) and Mom had slapped her. She had actually slapped Summer.

We had all been shocked; never before had Mom hit us. Yelled at us, lectured us, grounded us-that she had done. But hit us? Mom never resorted to violence…never-not when I had broken her vase, not when Summer had cut down the tree in our backyard, not when I had come home two hours past curfew…

It was the last straw; Summer had packed up her things, told us all goodbye, and then left. Just like that-no crying, no begging for forgiveness, no apologies, she just left…my big sister…my idol…she just left. All for a lump of cocaine and a guy that badly needed a haircut.

I looked up at Riddick, my eyes determined and resolute as I stared at his now hard expression. "I have no one left Riddick. No one except for Tina...and one day, after she gets married and starts a family on her own, she will leave me. Riddick…I will be alone. I will be alone, with no one to run back to, with no one to worry about me, should anything happen." I searched his face, making sure that he truly was paying attention as I spoke. "Riddick…I can't…I cannot afford to be with a man who is constantly second guessing everything I say, everything I do. It's not fair to me and it's certainly not fair to you."

"You know me Riddick…I'm not strong like you-I will break if you try to hurt me. You know that. And it scares me…how weak I am. Because I know, that if I choose the wrong man, I will be hurt me in ways I might never recover from." I bit my lip as I watched his face, trying to guess the thoughts that lay hidden behind his eyes-eyes that watched me with conflict, an unreadable expression on his face.

My voice was clear and firm as I spoke. "So Riddick…I'm going to give you one last chance to tell me why you don't know how to trust. Because I love you and I don't want to leave you. And because I know, that if I don't give you one last chance, I will regret it for the rest of my life…I'm also giving you one last chance because I need to know how much I really mean to you Riddick and whether it's worth our time, being together. I need to know…if I'm worth fighting for."

Throughout the whole time I was speaking, Riddick hadn't said a thing. He just stood there, his hands gripped into fists, his mouth unsmiling and tight as his eyes, impossibly beautiful and deep with emotion, stared at me, silently trying to tell me what he himself could not say, silently pleading me to stay.

For a few minutes I stared expectedly at Riddick, waiting for him to say something, to finally loosen the tight guard he kept on his emotions and give me a glimpse, just a glimpse, of the trust that I so eagerly wanted. For a few minutes, I waited for Riddick to prove to me that my words had indeed affected him, that I wasn't just a toy to him, that my opinions did matter, that I mattered to him. For a few minutes…I waited to be shown that I was indeed worth fighting for.

I gave a sigh, a look of defeat crossing my face, when no words left his mouth. "Okay then…I get it…guess I'm not worth fighting for…" Giving him a sad smile, I could only whisper my next words. "Goodbye Riddick…Please take care of yourself…and I hope…you find the happiness that you deserve…" Nodding slowly in agreement with my words, I turned around and made my way down the hallway and into the living room. My feet were slow as I walked towards the front door, unwilling to admit the end. Yet I knew that I had to do this…it wasn't fair to me or to him. I couldn't pretend to be with a man who wouldn't trust me. And Riddick…he needed someone that he could honestly respect and call his equal.

Gently I touched the doorknob, my fingers clasped around the brass knob, but I couldn't turn it. As if frozen in time, I could only stare at the knob in an unblinking daze. I knew what I needed to do…I knew it was for the best…yet…I just…I just couldn't seem to…

No, I had to do this-I needed to do this. Otherwise…otherwise I'd never be free.

Taking in a deep, shaky, breath, I finally turned the knob, and slowly, ever so slowly, opened the door. I bit my lip, my chest growing tight as the night sky suddenly came into view.

"I was found in a trash can with my umbilical cord wrapped around my neck."

I froze, the words crystal clear as they resonated through the suddenly still air. For a few seconds I was rooted to the spot, unblinking, unable to think as my mind processed the words, unsure if I heard right. Then, slowly, I closed the door and turned around.

Riddick had followed me; he stood underneath the archway that separated the living room and hallway, leaning against the wall. His arms were folded over his chest, making his biceps seem even more impressive than usual, while his body was stiff with tension-with agitation. The expression on his face was grim-rigidly indifferent as it was somber. His eyes were narrowed, hard and stormy, staring past me as they fixed on the spot just behind my ear.

Wide eyed, I could only stare at Riddick as he spoke. "Homeless guy found me…gave me to an orphanage-a real fucked up shithole…"

"Riddick-"I began only to be cut off when he continued to talk, his words fast-as if he were trying to get this whole ordeal over with.

"When I was six I met a man-a real hard ass mechanic who let me watch him while he worked. Used to spend all my free time in his garage, watching him fix ships." As he spoke, I could suddenly picture it; Riddick, young and innocent, still yet to grow into the intimidating figure he would eventually become, eagerly sitting in the garage as he watched the mechanic tinker away at engines.

"One day, probably about 7 months after meeting him, the guy tells me that he'll adopt me. Just out of the blue, he tells me he wants me as his son. Fuck, if I knew any better-I was happy…" he fell silent, his eyes still hard as they stared off into the distance. Unease began to whirl within me as I waited for his words, instinctively knowing that they wouldn't be pleasant.

His voice was low and flat. "A week later he disappears. Just packs up and leaves without warning. I found out later that he'd moved back to Planet 4 to be closer with his daughter." My heart dropped as I stared at Riddick, horrified at what the mechanic had done to him. "It's funny but just before he left he told me something…I'll never forget it…he told me, 'Boy, don't you ever forget. You're brought into this world alone and that's exactly how you're going to leave it-alone'…what a thing to say-I was six fucking years old and he gives me some bullshit about dying alone…" He snorted in disbelief.

Not knowing what to say I could only listen to Riddick's bitter words helplessly. "Spent the next nine years of my life wondering what I did wrong…nine fucking years and I couldn't let it go…"

I started to move towards Riddick, wanting to comfort him. "Riddick…"

"When I was 15…some fuckers tried to jump me in the alleyway. By the time the cops showed they were all on the ground, busted and bleeding…" He fell silent once more, his face unreadable as he slipped down memory lane.

His next words were strained with an edge of anger. "Unprovoked attack the judge later ruled…I got five years and the bastards got to walk Scott free." Again I could picture it; Riddick, an angry, hurt, teenager, wondering at the injustice of his life. An angry, hurt, teenager that had only been trying to defend himself when no one else would…His voice was bitingly hard as he spoke. "No one defended me. Even the attorney they'd gotten told me it be better if I pleaded guilty…spent the next two years in the Slam…would have been five, if I hadn't told everyone to go fuck themselves and tried to escape. Would have done it too, if the fuel tank to the ship I was hijacking wasn't nearly empty...long story short I got caught and, instead of sending me back to the Slam, the pilot asked if I wanted a job flying ships. The Slam or flying ships…really wasn't much of a fucking choice."

I was now standing before him, my feet carrying me over to Riddick as he talked. He still wouldn't look at me-couldn't look at me as I gazed upon the hard lines of his face. Gently, my eyes still glued to his face, I touched his arm. At my touch he stiffened, unable to relax even when I began to tenderly run my thumb over his forearm.

Closing his eyes, he could only force his next words through gritted teeth. "Marty…you want me to trust. How can I trust…when I've been constantly fucked over for trying?" Tears began to form in my eyes at his confession, my whole chest tight with love and sympathy for the man before me. Suddenly it all made sense-the hesitancy in establishing our relationship, the hard time he had accepting my love…suddenly it all made sense.

I wanted to hurt each and every person that had caused Riddick so much pain.

"Riddick, look at me." I demanded, my voice quiet. He refused, his eyes still closed. Relentlessly, I didn't give up. "Look at me, Riddick." For a single, solitary, minute he kept his eyes closed. Then, without a word, he opened his eyes. He turned to look at me, piercing me with his golden gaze.

His face had slipped back into a neutral expression as I began to speak. " Riddick, I love you. I love you…maybe it might not mean a thing to you but to me…love means that I will there for you, Riddick. I will be there for you to talk to-to lend an open mind and a willing ear should you need it. It means that I will be there when you need me. If you're hurt, if you're sick, if you're sad, if you're unhappy…I will be there, Riddick, to give you my comfort and support, to try and make the hurt go away." My voice was firm, resolute and unwavering as I spoke, my gaze hard and determined as I looked at Riddick. "Love means that I will not judge you, nor will I try to belittle you or humiliate you or anything else that would make you feel embarrassed or ashamed. It means that I will trust you, regardless of what others say, and I will always, always, give you the benefit of the doubt. It means that I will try to protect you. Emotionally or physically, I will do everything in my power to keep you from harm's way. And never will I intentionally hurt you."

I searched Riddick's face as I spoke, my eyes seeking his golden orbs-golden orbs that were suddenly filled with unreadable emotion-Nervousness? Hope? I didn't know.

Letting go of his arm, I stretched my hand up to stroke the roughness of his cheek, the stubble of his face scratching against my palm. Like before, when I had touched his arm, he stiffened. Slowly though, after a while, Riddick began to relax as he became accustomed to the soothing motion of my thumb.

"Riddick…I'm happily willing to give you all of this-I'm offering you my love. But you need to trust me, Riddick. How can I give you anything if you can't trust to accept what I'm offering?" I asked questioningly, my eyes gently imploring as I looked at him. Riddick's mouth was a tight line-thin and frowning, his eyes closed once more, at my question.

Undeterred, I tried again. "Riddick-"

"I can't promise anything." He muttered through gritted teeth, the lids of his eyes still shut tight.

"Just try, Riddick." I insisted, looking at him. "Just try to trust me. That's all I'm asking…that you try." Tiresome silence greeted my pleas then, slowly, Riddick opened his eyes to stare down at me with a hard, unreadable, expression on his face.

"Try." I whispered, biting my lip. I stared up at him pleadingly. "Can't you just try?" He looked at me some more, the intensity of his eyes etching onto my skin. Then, looking away from me, he gave a grunt.

"Is that a yes?" I asked hopefully. Riddick just sighed. "Riddick-"

"Martha." Riddick warned quietly, the tone of his voice suggesting that his patience was starting to wear thin. Knowing better, I didn't push him, falling silent.

The sound of our breathing was the only thing that could be heard as I slowly stroked Riddick's cheek. After a few minutes, Riddick raised his arm; stretching his hand out towards me, he began to pull at the pins and tie that was keeping my hair up. An impassionate look was in his eyes as he watched my curls cascade down my back, curtaining my face in a whirlwind of black.

I had to remember to breathe when Riddick suddenly brought me closer to his body, our chests pressing against each other as he buried his face in my hair.

"Riddick?" I murmured, my voice soft as Riddick nuzzled his face against my hair. Tentatively I brought my hands up to rest against his chest.

"If I ever see that bastard again I'm going to kill him." Riddick muttered, his voice a low growl as he brought one hand to thread his fingers through my curls.

I shook my head. "Riddick…you won't see him again. I promise." I buried my face in Riddick's chest, closing my eyes as I felt the steady thudding of his heart. "I love you." He tightened his grip on me.

"Break all his fucking bones…" he continued to mutter. Sighing, I pulled back from Riddick, my eyes tender as I looked at him.

"Take me to bed, Riddick." I ordered softly. For a few seconds, Riddick just looked at me, his eyes burning with passion, his face unreadable. Then, his hand still gripping my curls, he brought my face to his, pressing our lips together in a heated kiss.

Eagerly I returned the kiss, wanting to feel him, needing to properly feel him against me. Lips still together, Riddick picked me up, allowing me to wrap my legs around his waist. He broke our kiss only to move his mouth to my neck, enticing whimpers and moans from me. At the sounds, Riddick gave a low growl of approval and began to walk to his bedroom, still continuing to nip and kiss my neck.

I couldn't think-I didn't want to think. I just wanted to feel as pleasurable sensations whirled throughout my body, Riddick's touch igniting flame upon flame within me. Going purely on instinct, I began to rain some of my own kisses against the side of his head.

"You need a haircut." I half muttered as the soft fuzz of his hair brushed against my lips and cheeks. Riddick said nothing; his only response to my statement was to throw me back onto his bed.

I blinked, dazed, my mind still muddled from our make out session-we were already in the bedroom? Well…that was quick.

Riddick looked at me, his eyes seeming to glow brightly with passion as he took his shirt off before tossing it carelessly onto the floor. Appreciatively I raked my eyes over his body, taking in the impressive biceps on his arms, the perfect shape of his chest, the hard, well defined, shape of his abs…Again, I couldn't marvel at my luck; how on earth someone like me had ever ended up with a man like Riddick I would never know. All I did know was that I was thankful, thankful and eternally grateful, to God for giving me the chance to love Riddick.

The bed creaked as Riddick got on it, his weight causing the mattress to dip slightly as he moved towards me so that I was looking up at his face, both of his arms on either side of my head.

I brought my hands up to cup both his cheeks. "I love you." My voice was soft, my words firm and hard as I stared into his eyes…his beautiful, beautiful, bewitching eyes…

Riddick didn't say anything. He simply pressed our lips together in a searing kiss.

* * *

I didn't gain Riddick's trust overnight. What I did gain from our fight, however, was Riddick's compliance to at least make an effort towards trusting me. It took a while…I was frustrated, I'll admit, but at least Riddick was trying. At least he was trying to make our relationship work.

It was probably about a month, after we had had our big fight, that I knew for certain that Riddick truly was learning how to trust me. I had been in the kitchen, making breakfast, when Riddick had suddenly come up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and asked when I wanted to move in with him.

I spent the next three hours showing him how much I truly appreciated his trust.


	8. Chapter 8

Hello Everyone!

So sorry for the lack of updating until now-I've been busy with life and, as a result, completely unable to work on this story. Hopefully this chapter can make up for it but if not...well...

Anyways, to everyone who's faved, reviewed or followed this story so far-Thank you! You have no idea how much your interest in this story is appreciated!

Unfortunately, I have exams coming up and, because they are quite major, I'm afraid the next update is going to be slow-not as slow as this chapter but slow, nevertheless.

**Once again, this chapter has some slight swearing in it. If swearing offends you, please do not read this chapter! **

**Happy Reading!**

* * *

My hands were still shaking when I re-entered the cargo hold.

Worrying faces greeted me as I snuck back to my spot near Jack, the issue of dehydration still a clear concern for everyone as they discussed the possibility of trekking into the desert to find water. Mercifully, no one had noticed my absence; aside from Jack, everyone else in the group had been too preoccupied with our water issue to realize that I had disappeared.

I still didn't know what to think; Riddick…I didn't know what to make out of our earlier encounter. Truthfully, I wasn't even sure if I wanted to understand the complexities behind it. He had been warm-I had felt the warmth in his tone, felt myself righted by the familiarity in the way he had moved. Yet, the way he had tensed at his name, the torment that had clouded his eyes, and the angry way he had sounded-

No, I really couldn't understand what had just happened.

Thankfully, I hadn't missed much in the way of conversation; during my…"reunion" with Riddick, the other survivors had decided that we would be split into two groups. Group one, the one with Johns, would head out into the desert to look for water. Group two, the one without Johns, would stay behind to bury the dead. Naturally, considering my "enthusiasm" for travelling alongside a man so intent on throwing my husband behind bars, I volunteered to be put with the group that wouldn't have me constantly looking over my shoulder in paranoia.

It was while we were gathering up the last few bottles of alcohol (and while I was trying to avoid the suspicious glances that Jack was giving me when he noticed that I had failed to find my hair tie) that Johns, who had left to go check up on Riddick, stormed into the cargo hold with a provoked expression on his face. Automatically, upon seeing his enraged features, my stomach began to knot up into a tight ball of nervousness, instinctively knowing that he had caught onto Riddick's escape. My anxiety only got worse when I noticed that he was holding the bit that he had used on my estranged husband.

"Riddick's gone." Johns informed us in an irritated tone, throwing the bit onto the floor in disgust. "The bastard broke out of his chains-one of the links must have been broken." Or he could have pulled them apart with his super human strength.

Carolyn gave Johns an alarmed look. "Should we be worried?" He nodded.

"He's gone for now but that doesn't mean he won't be back. Zeke," Johns said, turning his attention to the aboriginal man. "You and your group should probably arm yourselves. No telling what the bastard will do if you're unprepared."

Zeke nodded at John's words. "I think I saw some guns over there." He pointed towards where the hold was most disarrayed. "Maybe some knives, I'm not sure."

"What about these?" Shazza asked, picking up, what looked to be, some sort of stick from Paris's sarcophagus. Almost immediately, the soft man began waving his hands in disapproval.

"Aha, no you can't use those." Paris said, somewhat frantically, causing all of us to look at the man with raised eyebrows. Undeterred by our questioning glances, he continued to speak. "They're Maratha crow-bill war picks from India. Very rare." He nodded towards the prospector woman, indicating with his hand for her to drop the weapon back into the container. Shazza rolled her eyes but otherwise obliged the pampered man.

Zeke walked over to her, reaching into the coffin to pull out another weapon-some sort of wooden stick with a large bulb on the end. "What about this?" he asked, waving the weapon slightly through the air. Paris furiously shook his head.

"That is a Rungu throwing club from Zambia." Paris replied tersely as he hurried over to where Zeke was standing. "They're quite rare since most of them were lost sometime in the twenty third century." He held out his hand as he explained, waiting for Zeke to hand him the weapon. Like his partner, Zeke rolled his eyes at the man but willingly gave the weapon back to Paris.

The prospector went back to rifling through the coffin before, with Paris's face becoming more and more stressed, bringing out what looked to be some type of pipe. "And this?" Zeke asked, holding up the pipe object so he could see it better.

Paris's face couldn't have gotten more annoyed as he explained. "That's a hunting blow-dart pipe from Papua New Guinea. That's very rare since the tribe is now _extinct_." He stressed with thinly veiled irritation.

"Cause they couldn't hunt shit with these things, probably." Zeke muttered, giving the pipe a frown, before handing it back to the anxiously waiting man. Quickly, as if his life depended on it (because clearly it was more important than the fact that we had crashed on some hellhole of a planet), Paris placed the weapons back into the sarcophagus before turning to address Johns who was busy re-strapping his gun holster to his belt.

"What's the point?" the pampered man asked, pointing to the weapons somewhat skeptically. "If he's gone, he's gone. Why should he bother us?" Johns gave Paris a sideways glance before returning his gaze back to his gun belt.

"Maybe, to take what you've got." Johns said, somewhat nonchalantly, as he began pulling the belt through the loops. "Maybe, to work on your nerves. Or maybe," he pulled the material through the final loop before giving Paris a thin, somewhat patronizing, smile. "To just come back and skull fuck you in your sleep."

"He sounds like a charmer." Shazza muttered, walking past me to grab one of the guns that Zeke had pointed at to earlier. I didn't reply, my need to be inconspicuous making me unable to voice the suddenly irritated opinions that I had towards Johns's unflattering description of Riddick. I mean, I could understand Johns's animosity towards Riddick-after all, Riddick was the criminal that he was trying to collect a bounty on-but the way the merc was describing him…you'd almost think that Riddick was some sort of man-eating beast that needed to be put down!

Then again, what did it matter? As far as I was concerned, Riddick wasn't my problem anymore. Sure, I didn't like the way Johns had talked about Riddick…or how evil the media portrayed him to be...but that was to be expected. I mean, I had been married to the man for three (eight) years. Obviously I would still have some…sentimental feelings over Riddick but whatever affection that had existed between Riddick and I no longer had any validation. After all, we hadn't seen each other in five years-five years where Riddick hadn't even bothered to try and dissuade the notion that we were no longer a couple. Hell, Riddick had even proved that about ten minutes ago, back at the ship, when I had accidently walked in on him escaping. So what if everyone thought Riddick was a monster? So what if everyone wanted him locked up? He had killed people-he was a criminal, for God's sake! Criminals went to jail. Honestly, I shouldn't have been bothered.

Yet…I was bothered; the idea of Johns hunting down Riddick bothered me. The idea of the other survivors hurting Riddick, or anyone hurting Riddick for that matter, bothered me greatly. I was bothered by the idea of Riddick getting hurt, of being in pain. I was bothered by the idea of seeing Riddick back in chains…I was also bothered by the fact that he still affected me so greatly-that his voice, that his gaze, could still draw forth emotions that I had no longer thought I still possessed.

Lost in my brooding, I failed to notice that Jack had moved next to me. "Aren't you going to get a gun?" the boy asked curiously. Startled, I glanced down at Jack, wondering how I hadn't noticed him sneak up on me.

I shook my head at his question. "I'm not good with guns-or any sort of weapon, for that matter." I explained, unconsciously remembering the time I had asked Riddick to teach me how to use a gun. The memory, having taken place during the first year of our marriage, still made me inwardly cringe considering that it had ended with Riddick driving me to the hospital, with a broken nose, when the gun's recoil had caused me to fall flat on my face.

Of course, that was nothing compared to the time when I had asked Riddick to teach me how to use one of his sabres…

Suddenly realizing that I was reminiscing about Riddick, I shook my head, unintentionally lowering my gaze, as I tried to disperse my dangerous thoughts. No, I couldn't go down that road-I wouldn't go down that road. That road had been closed, blocked off by the barrier that had entered my heart when Riddick had been arrested. To even be thinking about such things-no, no and no-I couldn't do that to myself. I wouldn't do that to myself, I mean…Damn it! Shaking my head again, I was completely caught off guard by Jack's next question.

"Do you know how Riddick escaped?" Jack suddenly asked, causing me to freeze in surprise. Shocked, I looked up at him, noting the, almost demanding, suspicious, expression that he wore on his face.

Nervously I bit my lip, my voice slightly strained as I fumbled with my words. "W-what? How Riddick escaped-why would you ask me that? I mean no…I, I don't know. No. No I don't." I could feel my face getting pale as I began to ramble, my agitation only getting worse at the disbelieving look that Jack was now giving me.

Much to my utter relief (and slight aggravation), I was spared any further questioning when Johns walked up to us, all ready to go with his gun and bullet proof vest.

He smirked, white teeth flashing, as he addressed us. "Jack. Marty." I narrowed my eyes, slightly in annoyance, at his pretentious tone. Annoyance which steadily began to increase at the self-indulgent look Johns gave me. "Are you sure I can't convince you to join me?"

I gave him a terse nod at his question. "I'm sure." Then, upon seeing that he wasn't going to abandon his attempt at persuading me, I added. "You see, I'm not good with heat and…I'm also terrible when it comes to exercising. If anything, I'd probably slow you guys down." I gave him a thin smile as I explained, acutely aware that Jack was listening to every word that was being ushered between Johns and me. At my answer, Johns gave me another smirk-which, I suppose, could have been charming if I hadn't already spent a good many years in the company of a better one-

Stop.

"I just think it would be a better idea if you came with us. After all, I'd hate for a pretty woman like you to get hurt by Riddick." Johns explained, moving closer to me. Instinctively I took a step back, entirely unwilling to give Johns any chance of believing that his flirting was appreciated.

"I'm sure Zeke and Shazza will be more than capable of keeping us safe." I replied, noticing that Paris was already leaving the cargo hold.

Johns shook his head in slight disagreement. "You'd be much safer with me. After all, I pretty much know Riddick by now." He bragged slightly as he not-so-subtly referred to his capture of Riddick. It took a considerable amount of will power to not just roll my eyes at the merc and start informing him of exactly how much _I knew_ about Riddick.

"Again, thank you but I'm fine." I insisted, trying my hardest to keep my smile from morphing into a frown. Looking past Johns's shoulder, I saw Carolyn trying to gather Imam's attention, no doubt wanting to get a head start on their trek into the desert. My gaze was immediately diverted back to the merc before me when Johns suddenly brought his hand to my cheek to push back one of my curls behind my ear.

His eyes were focused entirely on me as he murmured. "You have beautiful hair." I didn't respond to his comment, too shocked by his audacity to properly form a coherent thought that didn't involve me screaming that what he was doing was entirely inappropriate, considering that we had crashed onto an unknown planet, and utterly unwelcome, considering that (despite our five year separation) I was still a married woman!

Luckily, I was able to reign in my anger; Johns was spared from my sudden fury when Paris suddenly re-entered the cargo hold, his face full of animated panic.

"Excuse me." Paris said, his frantic tone getting everyone's attention as he indicated for us to follow him outside. "I think you should see this." Resisting the urge to give Johns a scathing look, I followed the rest of the survivors outside, wondering what had Paris so agitated. My answer came soon enough when I stepped back onto the dry terrain only to have my eyes widen in shock by the sight that greeted me.

"Three suns?!" Jack questioned in disbelief, his eyes just as wide as my mine, by the sight of a third sun that was slowly rising into the sky as its two other companions began to set.

"Bloody hell." I heard Shazza murmur as she walked up beside us, her gaze fixated into a perfect mixture of bewilderment and dismay, as she watched the three suns alternate with each other. I couldn't help but be in agreement with her words. Bloody hell indeed.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Johns walk up next to Carolyn, shaking his head as I heard him lament on her, now futile, plan to travel by nightfall. At the same time, while Johns and Carolyn were talking, I also heard Paris mutter in despair as he mourned the loss of his cocktail hour, causing me to roll my eyes at the pampered man's nonsensical priorities.

Worrying my lip between my teeth, I turned to see Imam crouched to the ground, his three boys closely behind him, as he picked up some sand before releasing it into the air.

I walked over to him. "What do you make of this?" My tone was curious as I questioned the priest. He looked up at me, his expression deep and thoughtful, before returning his attention back to the suns with a smile.

"We take this as a good sign…" Imam replied, dusting his hands as he stood up. "…a path, a direction from Allah." I looked at him in puzzlement.

"How so?" I asked, my eyes furrowed slightly as I pondered his words.

Imam pointed at one of the suns-the blue sun that was currently rising-as he answered my question. "Blue sun, blue water." At his response I nodded, somewhat able to see how a blue sun could be taken as a sign of God. Giving Imam another nod, I was about to ask him to further explain when Johns's voice suddenly cut through the air.

"Ever wondered why I'm an atheist?" Johns asked sarcastically, his voice patronizingly annoying as he walked up beside me. I couldn't help but narrow my eyes at him, in irritation, at the rude and uncalled tone that he addressed Imam with-after all, Imam hadn't asked Johns about his religious views and I was pretty sure that the priest had been talking to me and not to the merc. My irritation only became further aggravated when Johns moved closer to me.

The merc looked at the sun, a scornful look upon his face. "It's a bit of a bad sign-that's Riddick direction." Johns explained, pointing at the rising sun. Unconsciously, at the mention of Riddick, I held my breath, suddenly wondering how much distance I could put between me and Johns without looking suspicious.

Carolyn walked up to us, a puzzled look on her face. "I thought you found his restraints over there-towards sunset?" she questioned, her eyes confused as she looked at the blue-eyed man. Johns nodded.

"Right, which means he went towards sunrise." He explained, further demonstrating his "knowledge" on Riddick. He continued to look at the barren landscape, his eyes furrowed slightly in thought, before walking over to Zeke, who had managed to find breathers-oxygen tubes-while we were talking.

Half an hour later, inhaling every few minutes from a breather as I worked, Zeke and I were busy tolling away at the dirt, pick axes stabbing into the terrain as we made holes to bury Carolyn's coworkers-one of the ship's two captains (Carolyn had failed to give his name) and her friend, the one who had died so painfully in her arms, whose name she said was Owen. The task, already difficult to begin with, was made even more torturous by the blistering sun which had now dyed the world in a strange, bluish, tinge. Looking around me, seeing the landscape immersed in blue, it almost made me believe I was stuck in some bad dream. Unfortunately, the sluggishness of my sore body-soreness which, I'm pretty sure, should have woken me up by now-made me acutely aware that this was indeed reality.

Pausing to wipe some sweat off my forehead (and desperately wishing that I had a hair tie), I couldn't help but take think of all the other bodies that were burning in the wreckage of the ship; Forty plus passengers had been on the Hunter Gratzner, all bound for the Helix system, and now, excluding the twelve who had somehow survived, all of them wouldn't be given the proper burial that they deserved. Husbands, wives, fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, daughters, sons…just thinking of all these people and the lives they once led, of the people they've left behind-people, most likely, eagerly awaiting for their arrival or return…it made me sad. Sad and guilty that I was still here, given another chance to live, while they had been unfittingly forced to leave this world.

Sucking on my breather again, I looked up only to end up giving Paris a sour look when I saw that he had gotten himself very comfortable as he rested on top of a piece of the ship's wings, that had come off the ship during the crash; instead of helping us, Paris was sitting in a lawn chair, underneath a large patio umbrella, while he smoked a cigar and sipped on a bottle of whiskey. Where he had found the chair and umbrella, I had no idea but the fact that he had found it, and was now shamelessly using it while Zeke and I suffered, was leaving me entirely unimpressed.

"You have got to be kidding me." I muttered in annoyance as I watched Paris take another sip of his whiskey. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Zeke scowl at the lazy man.

"You comfy up there?" The aboriginal man called out sourly, completely sharing my irritation, as we watched Paris take a puff from his cigar.

Paris smiled at us. "Yes, well, it's amazing how you can do without the necessities of life, provided you have the little luxuries!" His voice was cheerful as he gave his insensitive reply, not the least bit disturbed by the fact that we were glaring daggers at him. After all Paris was our "watchdog" and, as far as he was concerned, his only job involved looking out for Riddick…even though I was pretty sure he was going to fail that too, considering how unbothered he was about the whole ordeal we were going through…

Zeke glowered at him. "Well, just keep your bloody eyes open! I don't want that dog sneaking up on our asses!" he snapped, completely annoyed by Paris's uselessness. Paris didn't bother responding, simply giving an unconcerned wave at Zeke's words, as he focused his attentions onto the alcohol in his hand.

Beyond irritated now, I was about to give Paris a piece of my mind when I noticed that Jack had snuck up behind the pampered man, a playful look upon the teenager's face as he, no doubt, debated on the right moment to scare the antiquities dealer. Feeling entirely unmerciful, I pretended not to notice the boy, opting to return to my digging. My decision was rewarded a few seconds later when Paris gave a surprised yelp, causing Zeke and I to share satisfied grins as we heard the man tell Jack off.

* * *

Time seemed to pass slowly while Zeke and I dug, sweating bullets as we toiled underneath the unforgiving sun. The work, getting harder by the minute, seemed endless but eventually, after about an hour or so, we finally had a basis for the first grave.

Grunting slightly as I loaded the body of the captain (again, Carolyn had failed to give his name) onto the makeshift sled that Zeke had made, I couldn't help but feel entirely appreciative towards the aboriginal man whose ingenuity, without a doubt, was the only reason why these two men were even getting a proper burial. Sure, I had helped somewhat but, honestly, I wouldn't have been able to even get started without using Zeke's guidance.

"We're probably going to have to dig a bit deeper, maybe even widen the hole a bit, before we bury him." Zeke said as he helped me drag the captain's body towards the hole. I gave him a strained look, my face slightly red as I struggled to hold up my end.

"You don't…seem fazed by this." I inquired with a huff, slightly out of breath, as we finally reached the hole. Zeke gave me a nod as we lowered the sled to ground.

"I used to work in the mines in Australia. Saw a lot of people get buried by collapsing tunnels." He explained, as we pulled the captain's body off the sled and onto the hardened earth.

I looked at him in surprise. "You used to live on Earth?" I asked, my interest completely piqued by his words.

He nodded again. "I was born there. So was Shazza."

"If you don't mind me asking, how did you two meet?" I asked, curious about the two prospectors' relationship. Zeke gave a slight smile at my question.

"In Australia, while I was still a miner. Shazza's father owned the company I worked for and she used to tag along with him when he did monthly inspections. That's how we met, actually. During one of her father's inspections, while I was on my break."

"How did her father take your relationship?" I asked, my brain finding it hard to imagine Shazza as someone experienced with wealth.

"Pretty badly." Zeke admitted, picking up one of the pick axes. "He didn't like the idea of his daughter being with someone…beneath her, as he liked to put it when he found out about us. Said she was ruining her life, that I would drag her good name through mud, or something along those lines." I gave him a concerned look.

"So what happened?" I quietly questioned, instinctively knowing that it hadn't ended with her father's approval.

Zeke sighed. "He made her choose between me and him." He walked over to the hole before jumping in, his feet landing against the dirt with a soft thud. His voice was low and flat as he spoke. "She chose me."

"You don't…seem happy about that."

The prospector gave another sigh. "I don't know, sometimes I wonder if she did the right thing, giving up everything just to be with me. It hasn't been easy. We've been to more planets than I've cared to count, had to sleep on the street a couple of times when we couldn't find work…and when we do find work it usually involves a lot of tools and heavy lifting…Shazza, she didn't grow up like me and she has every right to complain yet..." he stared down at the pick axe, lost in his thoughts, as he continued to speak. "She just accepts it-the work, the constant travelling-she just accepts it. No complaining, nothing." His tone was full of admiration as he talked about his girlfriend, the obvious love he had for Shazza bringing a smile to my face.

"You two must really love each other." I stated, smiling at him. Zeke grinned, my words causing him to duck his head slightly in embarrassment.

"Well-"he began only to stop talking and look towards the ship-where Shazza and Jack were busy salvaging parts.

I stared at him in confusion. "Zeke? What's wrong?" he said nothing, a frown dotting his face as he continued to look towards the ship. Then, as if realizing something, he hurriedly began to unhook the gun on his belt-a gun that Johns had given him before he had left with the others to find water.

"Zeke-"

"Did you hear that?" Zeke suddenly asked, giving me a worried look as he finally got the gun off his belt. Bewildered by what he was talking about, I shook my head, my response causing his expression to become uncertain as he returned his gaze back towards the ship.

"Zeke?" I questioned again, biting my lip as I looked at the aboriginal man. Suddenly I wondered if, maybe, it was Riddick he was hearing but immediately dismissed the thought as soon as it entered my mind. I mean, while I did think that Riddick would return to the ship for…supplies or something along those lines, I didn't think he would do it in a way that would attract the attention of others. Maybe I was looking too deeply into it, my judgment perhaps being clouded by past emotions, but for some reason…I had this feeling that Riddick didn't want to be anywhere near or have anything to do with the other survivors-which, in an odd, twisted, way, did make sense considering that Riddick hadn't been the most...social of people when we had still been together.

Zeke continued to stare at the ship, his eyes furrowed in vexation. Finally, giving me another worried look, he began climbing out of the hole.

"Zeke-"

"Wait here." He ordered before heading towards the ship, breaking into a, somewhat anxious, sprint. Utterly perplexed by the worried man's behaviour, I could only squint as his form became smaller and smaller within the bluish haze.

Giving a sigh, I returned my attention back to the unfinished grave, determined to push back my suddenly worrisome thoughts-all of which, much to my aggravation, revolved around a certain convict that I was trying very hard not to think about. Grabbing the pick axe that Zeke had thrown on the ground, during his hasty leave, I jumped into the hole and began hacking away at the dirt, widening and deepening the grave with renewed vigor as I tried to drown my nostalgia (at least I hoped it was nostalgia) with back breaking labour.

A few minutes later, while I paused to take in another mouthful of oxygen from my breather, I found myself nearly jumping out of my skin when the sound of a gunshot ricocheted through the air.

Shocked, I whirled around, my eyes growing wide as I stared at the ship; just near the ship's entrance, I could just barely make out the figure of Zeke, his body seeming agitated even from a distance, with Jack, Shazza and…Paris (when had he gone back to the ship?) as they all stood over-

My heart leapt into my throat, my whole body suddenly becoming frozen with fear as I realized that the other survivors were standing over, what looked to be, a body.

Horror-that was the only word that could be used as I started running towards the ship, panic clawing at my throat as the worst of the worst thoughts began circulating through my mind; desperate dread blossomed within my body as I ran towards the other survivors, my heart thudding painfully against my chest as I prayed to God that I was mistaken, as I prayed to God that it wasn't who I thought it was, lying on the ground dead.

My body was entirely devoid of breath when I finally reached the group; panting heavily, I frantically reached Zeke, my feet unable to move me fast enough. Rushing past the, visibly distressed, man to look at the body, I found myself recoiling in disgust at the amount of blood and gore that had splattered on the ground.

Biting my lip, in order to keep down the bile threatening to move up my throat, I steadily steeled myself to take another look at the body; breathing deeply through my nose, I looked down at the corpse only to find my knees nearly buckling in relief when I saw that the dead man was completely unknown to me.

I could barely keep the relief from colouring my voice as I questioned the aboriginal man. "Wha…what, what happened?" Zeke shook his head.

"I, I thought it was him-I thought it was Riddick." The man mumbled in a dazed tone. Frowning at him, I turned to face Shazza, about to ask her for more detail, only to find myself cringing when I saw that most of the gore had plastered onto her clothes and, stunned, face-a sentiment that was shared with both Paris (who looked like he was going to pass out) and, to a lesser extent, Jack (whose horrified expression was mixed with slight fascination).

Giving the woman a look of sympathy, cringing again as I watched some of the blood slide down her face, I had to turn away when the sight of the bleeding corpse became too much for me handle. Turning my head so that my back was to the other survivors, I redirected my gaze towards the grave, that Zeke and I had been digging, only to end up freezing when my eyes landed on Paris's "sentry" post.

There, sitting in Paris's lawn chair, while drinking Paris's whisky, was Riddick. Riddick, without a care in the world, was sitting in Paris's chair while everybody panicked about a man they had believed to be him.

I stared; I looked closely, blinked twice, closed my eyes and counted to ten before opening them again. Nope, I wasn't imagining anything. That was actually my estranged husband boldly sitting in the antiquities dealer's chair like he owned the world.

A low curse sprung from my lips, my earlier feelings of anxiety being replaced by ones of irritation, as I stared at Riddick. Of course the dead man hadn't been him-of course he wouldn't have gotten shot so easily-

I fumed.

Damn it.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Zeke was dragging the unknown man's corpse back towards the, still to be completed, grave. I closely followed him, somewhat ashamed by my lack of assistance as I watched Zeke struggle to bring the body closer towards the hole. It wasn't that I didn't want to help him-I did want to help Zeke, yes. It was just…the sight of so much blood…the fact that most of the guy's head had been blow apart…not to mention the bits of brain that had ended up on the man's clothes-

No, I…I just couldn't. I mean, Owen's body had been bad enough (I had to get Zeke to pull out the pipe and cover up the wound before I even thought of touching the corpse) but this…no, it was too much. Biting my lip, I felt another spark of shame go through me as Zeke tried to get a better grip on the man's body, knowing perfectly well that, after seeing my hesitance in touching the corpse, the dark skinned man wouldn't ask me to help.

We finally reached the grave. Giving a grunt, Zeke allowed the man's body to fall to the ground with a loud thud, a look of relief crossing his face as he no longer had to drag the extra weight. Slowly rotating his right arm, Zeke walked over to the hole, about to jump in, only to stop as a puzzled look crossed his face.

I looked at him curiously. "What's wrong?" He was staring at the hole, his eyes furrowed in bafflement.

"Did you do this?" he questioned, pointing at the hole. Wondering about what he was talking about, I walked towards him only to find my eyes widening slightly when I saw that a small tunnel had been dug out within the grave.

I shook my head. "I did some digging but…not this much, no." My tone was bewildered as I stared at the hole, wondering what had happened. I mean, it was great that we had less work to do but still…

Zeke frowned, my response doing little to reassure him. Staring for a few more seconds, he jumped down into the hole, his feet thudding softly against the dirt. Watching him scan the earth around it, I was undeniably surprised (and just a bit worried) when Zeke discovered that the tunnel was just big enough to be crawled through.

"Zeke?" I called out, still surprised by the tunnel's appearance. He looked up at me before shaking his head.

Getting down on his knees, the aboriginal man began crawling into the tunnel, fully intending to check it out. I frowned at his action, not sure if what he was doing was the best of ideas, but any chance I had to warn Zeke of my misgivings were immediately curbed; about to tell Zeke to not go into the tunnel, I became distracted when, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a shape moving.

Turning my head, I was met by the sight of dust and dry earth-nothing to suggest that I had seen anything. Positive that I hadn't been imagining things, I looked around and noticed a bunch of rock spires, large and imposing with height-perfect to hide behind. Perhaps something was behind them? I walked towards the spires, determined that the heat hadn't fried my brain just yet, only to end up frowning when I realized that there was nothing by the spires other than a few handful of rocks.

Biting my lip, I knitted my eyebrows together, wondering whether I had been imagining things. Still pondering over what I, might have, seen, I was totally unprepared for the loud sound of gunshots coming from the grave as Zeke screamed.

I jumped; a scream of my own came from my mouth as, surprised by the gun, I whirled around. Suddenly full of panic, I started running-dropping my breather in the process-towards the grave, nearly tripping as I jumped into the hole. Landing against the dirt, I was horrified to find the ground covered in blood, the red strongly staining the area around the tunnel.

I dropped on all fours, my voice frantic with horror. "Zeke! Zeke!" I stared at the tunnel's opening, waiting for the prospector's voice. Then, upon hearing nothing, I began moving towards the passage.

Almost immediately, as soon as my body was halfway through, I realized that this was a bad idea; my head and arms were already through the opening when, while viciously being reminded that I had originally disapproved the idea of crawling into the tunnel, the sounds of clicking and earth being shifted (which most certainly wasn't coming from me) began steadily creeping towards me at an alarming rate.

Idiot.

Idiot.

IDIOT!

I started moving backwards, scrambling with unrestrained panic and fear as the noises got closer. Gasps escaped from my mouth as I tried to keep from screaming, my arms and knees helplessly sliding against the ground as I struggled to move faster. Closer and closer, the noises got louder and louder, the panicking scream of my terrified heart unable to drown out the horrifying clicking. Desperate sobs starting coming from my throat as I still continued to move, suddenly wondering if this was how I was going to die-

A hand-A beautiful, beautiful, hand (no doubt sent from God Himself) gripped my shirt; I just had enough time to see a flash of gray, moving towards me, before I was suddenly pulled out from the tunnel.

A scream of fear shot from my mouth as I was pulled back into the light, the sun's harsh rays temporarily blinding me as my back hit something hard.

A few moments later, while in the midst of my fearful sobbing, I suddenly realized there was an arm wrapped around my waist.

At first I couldn't move; my ears still ringing with adrenaline, I could do little more than stare at the tunnel in front of me, the image of the strange gray object already half-forgotten, as the arm wrapped around my waist suddenly tightened, drawing me closer to the object it was attached to. The action, entirely unexpected, suddenly made aware that my back was pressed up against something that most certainly wasn't the ground-against something that was soft, yet hard, and undeniably muscular-

I forgot how to breathe when I saw another arm placed protectively in front of me, just mere inches from my face, a shiv-made of bone-gripped tight in the hand attached to it. Admittedly, it was the sight of this hand-a hand that I've held and kissed countless times before, a hand that could have only belonged to one person-that distressed me the most.

The ringing in my ears stopped; I could now hear the sound of deep breathing-its deep, baritone, form a complete contrast to my wheezing, high pitched, gasps-coming from behind me. I felt my heart kick up a notch, my throat suddenly dry, as I felt the chest against me move up and down, oddly enough in time with the heaving of my own, suddenly tight, chest…which abruptly became tighter when I felt a face against my curls.

Riddick nuzzled my hair, his face slightly rubbing against my head; his arm, already wrapped around my waist, became tighter, drawing me even closer towards his body as he breathed in deeply-as if he were breathing in my scent. Through the fabric of his shirt, I could feel his abs, the feeling of the hard defined muscles against my back feeling far more enjoyable than I was comfortable admitting…

…I really, really, needed to breathe-already I could feel myself just seconds away from hyperventilating; his presence, his closeness, it was just too much for my frazzled nerves. Riddick, he was just too much, I-I needed to think…I needed to breathe!

"Rich-"I began, ready to beg him to release me from his grip, only for the words to end up getting stuck in my throat when Shazza appeared at the top of the hole.

She gasped, a look of shock crossing her face at the scene before her. Immediately I froze, the sight of my horrified fellow survivor suddenly making me realize just how bad this looked for me, how bad this looked for Riddick-

Riddick let go of me, the loss of his arms causing me to fall on my back with startled thump, and sprang out of the hole with a speed I could only just make out. Struggling to sit up, I waited for Shazza to charge towards me-to start questioning me about Zeke, about the blood, about the compromising position that Riddick and I had been in, but the prospector woman did neither of those things. Instead, much to my slight bewilderment, she took off after Riddick, running in the direction that he had went.

Shakily I stood up, nearly tripping as I hurriedly got out of the hole. Almost immediately I saw Riddick, running towards the spires, with Shazza, a good distance away, chasing after him.

I took off after them, my bruised body protesting as I forced my muscles to move. Faster and faster, I pushed my body to run across the dry earth, managing to overpass Shazza as I tried to reach Riddick. My attempts, however, soon were for naught when Johns suddenly appeared in front of Riddick and used his baton to bring the larger man to the ground. I continued to run, hoping to reach Riddick before Johns began beating him, but I found myself stopping when, instead of hitting Riddick with his baton, Johns removed my husband's goggles.

Shocked and entirely confused, I couldn't help but wonder at what Johns was doing. I mean, he had a chance to subdue Riddick and, instead of using his baton, he rips off my husband's goggles. It didn't make sense-it was utterly confounding. What did Johns expect to happen? That Riddick would all of sudden go down on his knees and beg for his goggles back? That he wouldn't be able to move without his goggles-

I paused in my thinking; my internal rambling came to a halt when I saw that Riddick hadn't gotten up yet. Instead, he was on the ground, one hand pressed to his eyes, as he moved against the ground in slight agony.

I stared, my mind unable to process what I was seeing as I watched…well, as I watched Riddick writhe in pain while he tried to cover his eyes. I was baffled, the absurdity of the scene before me making me unable to move. It was as if his eyes were in pain, as if the light was…blinding-no hurting-him…it was as if his eyes could no longer handle the light-

But that was just absurd-Riddick and I had taken walks, many times, while it had been sunny. In fact, there had been times when Riddick had dragged me out of bed to go jogging with him, on scorching days (I remember those days with dread and much pain) where the sun had been blazing-

I was immediately distracted straight back to reality when Johns starting beating Riddick with his baton.

"Johns! Stop! Stop it!" I shouted, racing towards the two men. Johns ignored me, continuing to hit Riddick, who was struggling to fend off the merc while trying to keep his eyes covered at the same time. Not thinking how it might be perceived, I dashed in front of Johns, placing myself between Riddick and the merc.

Johns growled at me. "Marty! Move-"

"He didn't do anything!" I yelled, grabbing onto Johns's arm to keep him from moving. "He didn't-"

"What did you do to Zeke?!"

The sound of Shazza's angry voice cut through the air, causing me turn, just in time, to see the prospector woman kick Riddick, the sight of the pained man causing me to forget about Johns. Running towards the furious woman, I grabbed onto her arms, trying to restrain her. Angrily she tried to push me off, screaming at Riddick as she struggled to free herself from my grip.

"What did you do to him?!" she continued to scream, trying to kick Riddick again. Shouts came from behind us, the sound of someone running getting closer and closer until we were joined by Carolyn who, upon seeing the state Shazza was in (and realizing that I was quickly becoming no match for the angry woman), quickly grabbed onto the infuriated woman's arms in order to pull her away from Riddick.

I struggled to hold Shazza back. "Shazza, stop-"

"Just kill him. Just somebody goddamn kill him before he-"The words were barely out of the prospector's mouth when she suddenly lashed out, her foot connecting with a loud twack to Riddick's head. Unable to move, I could only watch with dread as his body went limp.


	9. Chapter 9

Wow just wow. You guys have no idea how amazed I am, by how many people actually support this story! I mean, seriously, I'm at nearly a hundred followers. A hundred. That is just-

Thank you, just, thank you.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the last chapter. I admit I was quite amused by one of the comments about Shazza. Poor girl. You've just lost your boyfriend and people are more concerned about you kicking the living daylights out of Riddick. Hahaha, seriously, I'm always so happy and appreciative of everyones' reviews. Thank you.

This chapter is much longer than any of my other chapters. Apologizes for how long the chapter was but...well, I got inspired to really play around with Riddick's character.

Speaking of Riddick. Why? Why are you so difficult to write for Riddick! :(

Urgh, hopefully I got his character down right...

**Warning, this chapter has strong swearing. If strong swearing offends you, please do not read this chapter!**

**Happy Reading!**

* * *

The first thing I wanted to do was to run to Riddick.

The second thing I wanted to do was to slap myself for being stupid.

Anxiously I paced back and forth, my feet thudding against the metal floor with every step that I took, my lip pressed tight against my teeth as I restlessly moved. My mind was in turmoil, my brain trying to beat itself silly from the chaotic emotions that were being warred against it. Every few moments I would pause, my eyes automatically moving towards the metal staircase that led down into the lower level of the ship.

Riddick was down there. Riddick was down there in the lower level, chained up once more.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself, but it only made me more agitated with worry. Riddick was down there-that was the only thing I could focus on. Riddick was down there, in the lower level, unable to move, unable to…overwhelm me with his closeness, with his presence. If there ever was a time to talk to him-

No, what was I thinking? What was I thinking? Of course I couldn't just go down there and start…interrogating Riddick, to start demanding answers from him. I mean…it wasn't like we alone. The other survivors, they would surely notice my absence which most certainly would lead to questions-questions I didn't need. Questions that could get me chained up alongside Riddick.

No, I really couldn't just…

The sound of another set of footsteps brought me out of my brooding. Startled, I looked up only to see Carolyn walking towards the stairwell, a determined expression upon her face. At her presence, I felt another wave of anxiety go through me, the resolute look in her gaze only serving to remind me why I was so hell bent on keeping my strained marriage a secret.

I didn't bother to question what Carolyn was doing, already knowing the reason behind the young Captain's purposeful stride. She was going to talk to Riddick-she was going to try and interrogate Riddick into confessing that he had killed Zeke, that the only monster on this planet was him. It was a futile mission; Riddick hadn't killed Zeke and he most certainly wouldn't lie and say that he had. Then again, I also knew that Carolyn wouldn't believe him, not unless she had a reason to. After all, she had just spent twenty minutes with the other survivors who, after Johns had chained up Riddick again (I had made sure to kick the bit into an area where the merc wouldn't see it), had furiously debated among themselves on whether or not they should leave Riddick behind to die.

Imam, the ever faithful servant of God (to which I was immensely grateful for) had angrily argued that it wouldn't be right, that it would be going against his teachings to allow another human being to die. Naturally, Johns had been against this-sure he wanted his payday but, like most people, the merc also didn't want to end up with a shiv in his back after "the bastard turned on us" (as he lovingly liked to put it). Carolyn had been divided, wanting to leave Riddick behind but at the same time not entirely sure if it was wise to hastily decide on something so important without "hearing his side of the story first." Of course, Paris had wanted Riddick to be left behind (the pampered man was only concerned about saving his own neck) while Jack and Imam's boys hadn't been allowed to say anything, understandable considering that they were just kids and it wouldn't have been right to force them to make such a decision. And Shazza…

Shazza hadn't said a thing. Not a word. Her expression, as everyone talked about leaving Riddick behind, had been stormy. Pain and stunned anger had been very evident in her face while everyone talked about the man she believed to have killed Zeke. I didn't blame her. After all, from the words that Zeke and I had exchanged, the two prospectors had been very close to one another. To suddenly lose someone that you've held so dear to your heart…no, to a slightly lesser extent, I knew exactly how Shazza was feeling.

Zeke…I felt sorry for the prospector. He had been a nice guy-hardworking, determined, admirable. It wasn't fair for him to be killed in such a way. He had done nothing wrong yet he had been killed, without a doubt quite painfully, by something whose existence was still unknown to everyone else…

…that being said, of course I had tried telling everyone else about the…gray creature but they had just dismissed me, claiming that I was still scared from my encounter with Riddick and was simply imagining things.

But I wasn't imagining things. There was some gray creature, lying in wait underground, and it had killed Zeke-it had been about to kill me. And, if it hadn't been for Riddick, I would have died.

Riddick had saved my life.

Carolyn looked at me in surprise, startled to find me near the stairwell. "Marty? What are you doing here? What's wrong?" I gave her a nervous look, her presence wanted as much as it was unwanted. Slowly, I took another deep breath, trying to steady my nerves as I began to speak.

"It's…it's about Riddick." I explained, anxiously looking at her. At my words, a startled look passed over her face before she quickly reined it in with a slightly guarded expression.

"What about Riddick?" Carolyn asked, her voice cautious as she addressed me. I bit my lip, wondering how to word what I wanted to say, how to explain my words in a way that wouldn't draw suspicion. In the end, however, I decided to go with the truth.

I took another deep breath, forcing myself to look Carolyn in the eye as I spoke. "Riddick didn't kill Zeke."

The young Captain shook her head at my words. "Marty, you're still scared-"

"No I'm not." I snapped, cutting her off impatiently. Suddenly irritated, I looked at her, wondering what I had to say to make her realize that I was completely lucid. "I'm not scared. I'm...I'm not imagining things!" Carolyn shook her head again, not believing me in the slightest.

"Marty-"

"He saved my life." I insisted, my voice determined and resolute, my gaze unwavering as I continued. "Riddick saved my life."

My words had the intended effect; Carolyn looked at me in shock, her expression bordering between surprise and disbelief as her mind, no doubt, tried to process the information she was hearing-the information that I was forcing her to not overlook. My eyes never leaving her face, I watched as the other woman opened her mouth, her lips trying to force her voice to work, only to end up closing it when no words would form.

My tone was absolute and unflinching as I repeated my words. "Riddick saved my life."

For a few minutes, we simply stared at one another, eyes locked, my unmoving expression a complete contrast to Carolyn's bewildered face. Finally, without a word, Carolyn turned around and descended upon the stairs, her footsteps heavy as she clanged down the steps.

Listening to Carolyn as she walked down to the lower level, I let out a breath of air, suddenly wondering if what I had said was right, given my circumstances. I mean…could I trust Carolyn? Could I trust Carolyn to consider my words, to actually take my words into consideration when talking to Riddick? Or had I just dug myself into a bigger hole than the one I was already in? I bit my lip, worrying the flesh as I stared at the staircase again.

I…I could go check up on them-there was probably a column, or something along those lines, that I could hide behind to eavesdrop on Carolyn while she talked to Riddick. I'm sure she wouldn't notice, not unless I did something really idiotic. And it wasn't like I had to stay when she finished talking with Riddick. I could…I could just quietly slip out once she was done and, if by chance she didn't believe either my or Riddick's words…well…I could…help…Riddick…but only if Carolyn still wanted him dead. Otherwise…otherwise I was leaving him there. No talking to him, no interaction, nothing like that at all, just…I was just going down there to make sure that Carolyn wouldn't do anything…rash.

…or I could stay here. I could stay here, hoping that my words had resonated with Carolyn and that she would believe Riddick when he would (as I'm pretty sure he would) tell her that he hadn't killed Zeke. I could stay here, avoiding the chance of any extra suspicion, and pray that Carolyn was as reasonable as I was hoping her to be. After all, my luck had been pretty good for me so far. Well, aside from the ship crashing…and getting stranded on a hellish planet…while trying to avoid the merc who was after my husband…whose relationship with me I was still trying to keep a secret from everyone else-

You know what, there was absolutely no harm in being cautious and keeping an eye on Carolyn and Riddick.

Not allowing myself another second of thought, where I might change my mind, I headed to the stairs and starting walking down to the ship's lower level. My feet thudded softly as I descended down the steps, taking extra-precaution to go slowly in order to keep any noise I made to a minimum. I was halfway down when Carolyn's voice suddenly cut through the air.

"So where's the body?" I heard Carolyn ask, her tone demanding as it was questioning. I slowed down, trying to muffle my footsteps as I waited to hear Riddick's answer.

He didn't say anything; a few seconds of silence passed before Carolyn spoke again. "Well, do you want to tell me about the sounds?" Again, he said nothing, his voice non-existent as the determined woman interrogated him. Carolyn gave an impatient sigh, her tone slightly annoyed as she continued to question Riddick. "Look, you told Johns you heard something." I finally reached the bottom of the stairs, Riddick and Carolyn both coming into view as I stepped onto the metal floor. Like before, Riddick was chained up, with shackles once more on his wrists, only this time Johns had put more thought into imprisoning my husband. Now, instead of his chains being wrapped around the object behind him, each chain had been attached to a pipe on either side of Riddick, so that his arms weren't able to come together. Interestingly enough, Johns had been decent enough to chain Riddick in an area where he could sit; my husband was sitting on a broken column, looking unbothered despite the predicament he was in.

He wasn't looking at Carolyn; his back was straight as he sat, his arms hanging on either side with the chains suspending them slightly midair, while his head was downcast with the shadows of the room hiding just enough of his face to make him seem…unreadable. Carolyn however was standing, her whole body tense with impatience and irritation, as she looked down at Riddick. The scene before me, Riddick sitting down, ignoring the young Captain, while she tried to…tower over him, it almost made me laugh. I mean, Carolyn was a small woman (I was slightly taller than her) and Riddick was, well…Riddick. For her to try and appear intimidating before him…no, just no-it didn't work.

Carolyn gave another sigh, an annoyed look on her face when Riddick still refused to speak. "That's fine. You don't want to talk to me, that's your choice. But just so you know," she looked at him, her gaze resolute as she spoke. "There's a debate right now as to whether we should just leave you here to die."

I froze as she said those words, my earlier misgivings suddenly coming back to me with full force as I stared at the Captain. She wouldn't…I mean she couldn't possibly-wait, why was she turning around-

Suddenly realizing that I still had yet to find a place to hide and upon seeing that Carolyn was about to turn, so that her body would be facing my direction, an unwelcome celebration of panicking fireworks began being set off within my chest. My mind, fuelled by this panic, began racing as I tried to come up with various excuses that could help me escape, already knowing that an intense interrogation would follow once Carolyn saw me.

It was at that moment, with the grace of Lady Luck making me mentally fall and kiss her feet, Riddick decided to speak.

"You mean the whispers?" Riddick asked, his voice a low yet powerful rumble as he, almost lazily, questioned the blonde woman. Immediately, Carolyn turned her attention back to him, her features startled as she looked at Riddick with surprise.

Her voice was slightly suspicious as she looked, somewhat guardedly, at Riddick. "What whispers?" For a few seconds he didn't say anything. Instead, with my eyes riveted to his face, I watched as he lifted his gaze, just enough so Carolyn wouldn't notice where he was looking, so that his silver orbs were focused on me. Once again I found myself freezing, his unexpected action leaving me stunned as I realized that he knew I was here. He knew, yet how-

I didn't bother questioning it any further; realizing that I was doing little more than gaping at him, (causing me to lose precious time that I could be using to find cover) I frantically looked around searching for some place hide. As luck would have it, to my left there was a column, just big enough to cover me. I didn't waste any time; my eyes half focused on the blonde woman, I ducked behind the column, making sure I wasn't seen.

Peeking from behind the column, I saw Riddick lower his eyes so that his gaze was once again on the floor. His expression was a mask of indifference.

"The ones telling me to go for the sweet spot just to the left of the spine," Riddick answered, his voice a low baritone-intense, deep and slightly mocking. His eyes were locked onto the ground, the angle of his face once more hiding the silver brilliance of his gaze. "Fourth lumbar down…the abdominal aorta." His words were ushered with nonchalance, as if he were discussing the weather or the score of some football game. I couldn't help but shiver, unconsciously hypnotized by his voice, as he spoke of things in…as he spoke in a way I would have believed to be impossible of him, five years ago.

There was a moment of silence, broken only by our breathing, as Riddick paused in his speech-as if he were deliberately taunting Carolyn by not speaking. I could almost hear the smile in his voice with his next words.

"It's a metallic taste, human blood." He purred, a twisted sense of amusement coating his tone. "Copperish. If you cut it with peppermint schnapps, that goes-"

"Do you want to shock me with the truth now?" Carolyn snapped, her voice anything but impressed as she cut him off. I saw Riddick smirk, the corners of his mouth twitching up at the woman's words.

His voice was sardonically amused as he answered her question. "All you people are so scared of me…most days I take that as a compliment. But it ain't me you got to worry about now." He clarified, closing his eyes, almost mockingly, as he finished speaking. Carolyn didn't say anything, a look of unease on her face, utterly unnerved by the man's words. For few seconds, with Carolyn studying Riddick's lowered face, there was silence. Finally, with a hint of uncertainty in her voice, she spoke.

"Show me your eyes, Riddick." The young woman ordered, trying to look determined (failing somewhat) as she stared at the man before her. Again, with a few more seconds passing, Riddick didn't say anything as his lips formed into another smirk. Then, in a voice that could only be summed up as tantalizingly menacing, he broke the silence.

"You'd have to come a lot closer than that."

I felt my breath catch in my throat, completely and utterly entrapped by the spell of Riddick's words, as I wondered what Carolyn was going to do; biting my lip, I anxiously watched as another look of uncertainty crossed the blonde woman's face, no doubt wondering at whether she could trust Riddick…that or she was debating on whether Johns had actually chained up my husband properly this time.

Eyes nervously on Riddick, she took a small step towards him, her whole body agitated as he gave another rumble.

"Closer." He encouraged, his voice a low and dangerous purr. I watched as Carolyn rubbed her hand against her pants, her nervousness showing with every move she made, as she hesitantly took another step towards him. Riddick was still smirking as he continued to press her on.

"Closer."

She swallowed, before taking another step towards Riddick, now within his reach should he choose-

She jumped back when Riddick suddenly sprung up, the chains on his wrists the only thing holding him back as he lunged for Carolyn (the unexpectedness of his sudden move causing me to gasp in surprise), his restraints preventing him from doing more than lean towards the shocked woman-whose features were pulled into a mixture of fear and bewildered fascination as she looked up at Riddick (who, now standing, towered over the Captain) as his silver, pupil-less, eyes flashed at her-

"Where the hell can I get eyes like that?"

Startled, I whirled to my right only to find myself reeling back in shock when I saw Jack on the staircase, his face absolutely fascinated as he looked at Riddick.

Riddick didn't miss a beat; not taking his eyes off Carolyn's suddenly upset face, he answered the boy with a calm, yet amused, tone.

"Got to kill a few people." My husband replied, his face a calm mask of indifference as he stared at Carolyn. At his words, I felt something akin to the sharp sting of a paper cut pierce my heart, my chest suddenly tight as I was reminded, once more, of how much the man before me had changed.

Jack tried to keep the excitement out of his voice, trying to play it cool as he spoke. "Okay, I can do it." He said, in I way that, I suppose, was to make us believe that the idea, of killing someone, didn't seem all that…unacceptable to him. Understandably, I was not thrilled by his response.

At Jack's answer, Riddick's face flitted into another smirk, his tone now slightly amused as he continued to humour the teenager. "Then you got to get sent to a slam where they say you'll never see daylight again. You dig up a doctor and pay him menthol Kools…" he paused, no doubt for dramatic effect, before continuing. "…to do a surgical shine job on your eyeballs-"

"So you can see who's sneaking up on you in the dark?" Jack asked excitedly, unable to stop himself from interrupting my husband.

Riddick finally turned around, his eyes slightly playful as he grinned at Jack. "Exactly."

"Leave!" Carolyn suddenly shouted, the harshness of her voice, as it echoed throughout the room, making me wince. At her order, Jack frowned, no doubt wanting to continue his conversation with Riddick. The boy's less than pleased expression seemed to affect Carolyn; I watched as the blonde woman turned around, her tone gentler as she repeated her order to the teenager in a quiet voice. "Leave."

For few seconds, Jack simply stared at Carolyn, his expression defiant as he looked at the blonde woman. Finally, his eyes narrowed with suppressed rebellion, he turned around and walked up the stairs towards the upper level.

I watched Jack as he climbed the stairs; I felt sorry for the boy, truly I did, but, despite the efforts I was going through to keep Riddick alive, I had to agree with Carolyn. I mean, Jack was just a boy-a boy who still had a lot of growing up to do. The last thing he needed, during a time when he could easily be influenced, was having his head filled up with less than acceptable ideas-ideas that could land him in situations where he would end up getting killed or…worse.

Riddick watched Jack disappear up the steps before turning to look at Carolyn again.

"Cute kid." Riddick smirked, his words causing Carolyn to frown. Unbothered by Carolyn's less than stellar expression, he sat back down, his silver eyes flashing as he looked up at the displeased woman. "Did I kill a few people? Sure. Did I kill Zeke? No." Pausing, he tilted his head, his voice calm as he continued.

"You've got the wrong killer."

Carolyn shook her head. "He's not in the hole. We looked."

"Look deeper." Riddick retorted, his voice an emotionless rumble as he looked at Carolyn. His eyes were unreadable; the silver orbs glowed brightly as he moved his head back, their ethereal gaze the only thing to be seen as the shadows hid his face once more.

Minutes passed as Carolyn stared at Riddick, her face entirely uneasy as her eyes searched the man before her-no doubt trying to find some hidden motive behind Riddick's words. Then, as if realizing how futile her scrutinizing was, she turned around and began to make her way towards the stairs.

She had just planted her foot onto the first step when Riddick's voice brought her to a halt.

"What did she say?"

The woman froze, his unexpected question drawing her to a stop. Startled, she turned to look at Riddick, a look of bewilderment on her face.

"What?" Carolyn asked, her voice baffled-as if she was unsure that she had heard Riddick right.

"The woman…the one helping Zeke…what did she say?" Riddick asked, his tone almost emotionless as he questioned the blonde woman. At his unforeseen question, I felt my face become just as-if not more-surprised as Carolyn, who was suddenly looking at Riddick like he had just spouted horns.

Her face still dumbfounded, the tone of her voice was suspicious as she looked at him. "Why do you care?" I stared at Riddick, wanting to know the exact same thing as I eyed my expressionless husband.

His voice was carefully indifferent as he replied. "I don't. I'm simply…curious." Curious about what, I couldn't help but wonder as I continued to look at Riddick, wondering what he was trying to accomplish. Was he actually interested in what I had said to Carolyn-did he actually care? Or was he just trying to see if…I had sold him out? Was this some sort of twisted test to see if he could still trust me?

For a minute, Carolyn looked at Riddick, no doubt wondering what Riddick was trying to gain from asking such a question. Then, hesitating slightly, she answered Riddick.

"She said you saved her life." Carolyn replied, her eyes critical as she gauged Riddick's reaction to her words. To his credit (or discredit) Riddick's expression didn't change, his eyes lowering as he returned his gaze to stare once more at the ground.

"Huh…interesting." Riddick murmured, his voice almost…thoughtful. Carolyn eyed him guardedly, her tone cautious as she looked at him.

"You didn't, did you?" The blonde woman questioned, her voice uncertain as she watched Riddick. He didn't bother looking up, his voice slightly mocking, as he answered her.

"Of course not." He replied, the falseness of his words causing me to stare at him in shock. Liar…liar-of course he had saved my life! What else could you call pulling me away (quite literally) from the jaws of death? I certainly wouldn't call it anything else!

Carolyn stared at Riddick some more, her expression still wary as she, I assumed, processed my husband's words-her mind, no doubt, trying to test the truth behind his claims. For a few more seconds she continued to look at Riddick, a soft…tense silence descending upon the room as neither one spoke. Finally, her eyes now hardened with caution, she turned around and walked up the stairs.

I listened to Carolyn climb the stairs, her footsteps getting dimmer and dimmer until I could no longer hear her. Listening as she headed to the upper level, I let out a breath that I hadn't realized I had been holding, finally allowing myself to relax as the Captain distanced herself from Riddick. Surely, she would believe Riddick. At least, hopefully, she would actually try to see if his words were true and go down to check the hole-

My eyes widened when I suddenly realized that Riddick had just told Carolyn to go down into the hole to check for the monster that had killed Zeke.

Suddenly I wasn't relaxed. Suddenly I was worried. Riddick had just told Carolyn to _go find the monster that had killed Zeke. _As in go down into a hole, away from the rest of the survivors who could help her if she got into trouble, and search for a creature that would most likely tear her to shreds.

I stared at the stairs, biting my lip; Carolyn wouldn't actually-but then again, she was trying to see if Riddick had been telling the truth. After all, half the group wanted Riddick dead. The last thing Carolyn wanted was having the death of an innocent man on her hands…even if that meant going down into a dark, cramped, hole in search of a man-eating monster.

The sight of the stairs also brought to my attention another problem that I now faced-a problem that involved a certain, silver eyed, dangerous, man who just so happened to be my husband…

I peeked from behind the column; Riddick had returned to original position, his head lowered, and his eyes downcast, as he sat with his arms raised and slightly stretched out to his sides. Like before, the shadows hid his face, concealing his expression with a thin veil of darkness.

I bit my lip, deliberating on whether I could make it up the stairs without him noticing. To be honest, I was entirely doubtful that I could succeed, especially considering that I still had yet to figure out how he had realized I was here in the first place. I could run, I suppose, just make a mad dash for the stairs and pray that my legs were fast enough to carry me over the steps. Or I could stay, just stay and walk up to him. I could stay and finally ask the questions that I so desperately wanted to be answered.

Cowardice, in the end, was what won over; I couldn't do it, I couldn't talk to Riddick, not yet anyways. I needed time…I still needed more time, to mentally prepare myself, to steel my emotions, so that I wouldn't come undone into an emotional wreck when I started talking to him. Five years…I had five years of anger, of fear, of grief, of sadness that I needed to tell him. Five years of pain. Riddick had really caused me a lot of pain.

No, I couldn't talk to him now.

Slowly, my steps carefully small, I began to inch my ways towards the stairs, praying that my feet didn't make a sound. Closer and closer I got to the stairs, my eyes half guardedly on Riddick. Finally, with my breath entirely trapped within my chest, I reached the steps and began to slowly climb up-

"Marty."

I froze, Riddick's voice causing me to freeze as he called out my name-the gruff rumble of his voice unnervingly calm, loud and clear. For a few seconds there was silence, pure silence, as I suddenly found myself caught in the midst of an internal crossfire; I debated, suddenly wondering whether I should go down, to head towards Riddick, or whether this was the perfect opportunity for me to test my recently discovered skill in running.

"Marty."

His voice was louder this time, more commanding, firmer and leaving no room for argument. I continued to hesitate, worrying my lip between my teeth as I looked back to where I knew Riddick was.

"Martha."

Feeling a mixed sense of dread and trepidation awash through me, I climbed back down the stairs and stepped onto the floor, my steps sounding unusually loud, as I walked towards Riddick.

He was looking up; his eyes, no longer on the floor, were staring straight at me as I urged my feet onwards. Hesitantly, I brought myself closer and closer towards him till I found myself standing before Riddick, in the exact same spot Carolyn had been moments before.

I forced myself to breathe; looking at Riddick, I had to remind myself not to become captivated by the handsome man before me as his eyes, undeniably more beautiful than the first time we met, held my gaze with their ethereal glow. I couldn't help it-I already had a hard enough time as it was, becoming transfixed by Riddick, when his eyes had been golden brown. But this…no, I had to stay focused-I had to not let Riddick get the better of me. I had to be focused-I had to be brave. Otherwise I would never be able to ask the hundreds, the thousands, of questions that were begging to be released from my mouth.

Still looking at Riddick, I bit my lip as the silver glow of my husband's eyes glowed eerily while he watched me, studying me, as he waited for me to make the first move. His eyes…just looking at his eyes, I couldn't help but wonder…I mean, I could have asked him a million questions. I had a million questions that I wanted to ask. Yet, with his gaze locked onto my face, only one suddenly stood out on an _absolute-need-to-be-asked_ basis.

"Did you really get a shine job?"

At my unforeseen question, he gave me a surprised look, too startled by my unexpected words to keep his neutral expression from slipping. Understandable, considering that, should our situations be reversed, I would have been expecting something undeniably more…to the point, so to speak. After all, we hadn't seen each other in five years-with our last, proper, talk ending just minutes before I watched him being handcuffed and taken away by three Company men…

Riddick had reigned in his expression, his face now wary as he regarded me, somewhat guardedly. His tone was cautious as he answered me. "Yes."

I stared at him, wondering what I was trying to accomplish as I continued my useless questioning. "Why?" He continued to look at me, his eyes unreadable as he carefully considered my question.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time." He finally answered, his tone somewhat sardonic, as he gave me a dry smile. At his words I blinked, his sarcasm causing me to wonder if there was some inside joke I was missing out on.

Tense silence descended upon us as we stared at one another, my brain unable to supply any intelligent response to his words that didn't involve me mumbling an awkward, 'Oh', as we waited for the other to speak, to start the conversation of angry words and accusing questions-as I waited for Riddick to say something that would set off the angry words and accusing questions that I knew I had stored somewhere in brain...somewhere…

Unable to take the tension any longer, I bit my lip as I nervously pushed back a lock of my hair behind my ear, wondering what I should say to start the conversation-

"Where's your ring?" Riddick suddenly asked, the suddenness of his words causing me to freeze. Startled, I looked at him, wondering what he was talking about only to realize that his gaze was locked onto my hand, my left hand, which was still in the midst of pushing back my hair. My very visible left hand which was looking quite naked without the gold band that was supposed to be on my ring finger.

The sight of my bare finger made me freeze; my eyes widened as I stared at my hand, a mixture of guilt and shame swirling through me as I suddenly realized how this must look to Riddick. My ring-my wedding ring was no longer on my hand; the ring that Riddick had gotten me, that Riddick had actually taken the time to go out shopping for (Riddick who normally couldn't be bothered with such things), that he had put onto my finger, that he had gotten married to me with…it was gone.

My wedding ring was gone.

I looked up at Riddick, my eyes large and fearful, my mouth slightly open as I tried to explain-as I tried to come up with the words that could aptly describe the past few years which had forced me to give up my ring. Yet, as I stared into Riddick's eyes, only thoughts of shame moved through my brain. For how could I explain? How could I explain to Riddick that horrors that I had to face after he left? How could I explain to him the war that had overtaken the planet that I had been living on-that I had moved to, at Tina's insistence, after he had left me? How could I explain the struggle to survive, the fear of walking onto the streets during the day and the night, the slave traders that had used the war as an opportunity to make some profit? How could I explain to Riddick…why I had to sell my ring?

I couldn't tell him-call it shame, call it guilt-perhaps even a twisted sense of pride; I just could not tell him. My voice was a strained whisper as I finally gave Riddick my answer.

"I…I…um…lost it." I mumbled, unable to say anymore as I nervously waited for his reaction. He looked at me, his expression carefully blank as he regarded my sudden agitation.

"You lost it." Riddick stated, his voice dry, flat, and slightly…irked? At his tone, I bit my lip, knowing fully well how…weak my excuse sounded.

My throat was dry as I tried to explain. "I-it's not what you think. There were…there were complications-"

"I'm sure there were." Riddick said, cutting me off with a sarcastic smile-sarcasm which suddenly made me angry, very angry, given that I absolutely had no reason to be explaining myself to Riddick. I mean…he had been the one who had left-he was the one who had abandoned me! Not the other way around! Honestly…what was I doing? There was no reason for me to feel guilty; I had done nothing wrong!

"I…" I started, only to stop when I realized that I was still trying to justify myself to Riddick. Biting my lip again, I took a deep breath before fixing my husband with a hard and stern look. "I don't have to explain myself to you!" At my words, Riddick tilted his head, his expression slowly morphing into a look of sardonic amusement.

"No?" He questioned, one eyebrow rising ever so slightly as he looked at me. I'm not going to deny it; the fact that it looked like-that it sounded like-he was…taunting me only enflamed my angry feelings.

My voice was unconsciously loud as I glared at him. "NO! I don't! I don't have to explain anything to you! Not anymore!"

He stared at me. "Is that so-"

"Yes! It's exactly "so!" I snapped, loudly cutting him off as I finally found my nerve to…to…to finally speak. Riddick fell silent, his eyes unreadable as he regarded my angry expression with an almost calculative wariness. For a few seconds he said nothing. Then, his gaze never leaving my face, he finally spoke.

"So why are you here?" Riddick questioned, with a hardened edge to his voice as he stared at me. At his words, a startled look appeared on my face, his question suddenly reminding me of the reason why I had come down here in the first place-why I had meticulously planned my passage onto the same ship that had been transporting Riddick in the first place. I did have a reason for coming here, make no mistake, I did. Yet suddenly, looking at Riddick…seeing him chained up…I was…

Suddenly reality was thrust upon me; my husband was chained up because he was a criminal. My husband, who I haven't seen in five years, was chained up because he was a criminal.

I took a deep breath, suddenly not sure of what to say-well, I did know what I wanted to say, it was just…suddenly I didn't know if it made sense to say it, if it was even worth saying it. I mean…did it really matter? Would Riddick even care? I looked at him, truly looked at him, looked at the guardedness to which he regarded me, the caution that seemed to radiate from him.

Would he even object to what I had to say?

"I…" I began only to give a sigh when I realized that no, it wouldn't matter to Riddick-at least to the Riddick currently presented before me. "It doesn't matter. Not anymore. You've already answered my question." Riddick stared at me, a strange look slowly passing over his face as he watched me shake my head before giving another sigh.

"It doesn't matter anymore."

"Marty-"

I shook my head furiously, my suddenly erratic emotions making me unable to stop from shouting. "NO! NO! I don't have to explain a thing to you! I don't have to explain anything! Not now, not ever-I…" I stopped talking, suddenly overwhelmed with my emotions as I realized that this really was happening. I was really talking to Riddick again. Five years of being angry…of being scared…of being sad…of being in pain…and now I was finally talking to Riddick again. Yet the man before me…he wasn't my husband-at least not the husband I had been expecting, that I had been hoping for. The man before me…he was…he wasn't Richard.

Suddenly that made me angry. Suddenly I couldn't stop the angry tone of my voice or the hard, stern, look that I gave Riddick as I continued to speak.

"I don't have to explain myself to you. You've had five years to come back and give me a reason to explain myself to you! Five years Riddick! Five years!" I shouted, anger making my voice shake as I glared at Riddick-whose eyes were suddenly stormy, chaotic even, his mouth a thin, tight, emotionless line, as he looked at me. My voice was no better than a hiss as I continued to vent at him. "But you know what?! It doesn't matter Riddick! It doesn't fucking matter anymore! What you do, what I do, whom you do what with, whom I do what with-it doesn't matter! It doesn't fucking matter! Hell, I could probably be with another man right now and it wouldn't fucking matter-"

I gave a squeak when Riddick suddenly sprung up, his tall form towering over me. Frozen, surprised by his sudden action, I was unable to move as he lowered his head, so that I suddenly found his face mere millimetres away from me, his lips just a touch away from mine. Breathe-I suddenly forgot how to breathe as his gaze locked onto mine, so that the silver glow of his luminescent eyes transfixed me with their brilliance…

"Martha," I shivered at the harsh sound of his voice, the warmth of his breath on my lips forcefully bringing up emotions that really didn't need to be mixing with the sudden agitation I was feeling. I bit my lip as I registered the look on his face. He was, without a doubt, absolutely furious. "I'm going to ask you one more time. Why the fuck are you here?"

His closeness made me unable to think. The anger in his voice had me blurting out the very first sentence that finally popped in my brain.

"I want a divorce."

I regretted the words as soon as they came out of my mouth; almost immediately I wanted to take them back, to usher them away into the deepest crevices of my mind and forget that I had ever thought about them in the first place. Yet there was denying it; I had said those words and, most importantly, those words were the reason why I had desperately sought out Riddick in the first place.

I wanted a divorce.

Riddick stared at me, his eyes hard and unmoving, his expression devoid of any recognizable emotion. For a few minutes there was silence. Then finally, in a voice that could only be described as passively gruff, he spoke. "Where are the papers?"

It was like a match being struck-shock erupted across my face as I stared at him, his words stunning me like nothing I had ever heard before. I didn't know how to explain it; his words caused a sharp pain to slice through me, a painful pounding that was slowly festering into an aching wound. It didn't make sense-this was what I wanted. Yet…couldn't he have been more…couldn't he have sounded…

I shifted uncomfortably. "They got lost in the crash." I muttered, unable to look at him as I tried to deal with how calmly he was treating this whole…situation. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Riddick nod.

"I see." He murmured, the lack of emotion in his voice causing another burst of pain to flow within my chest. I didn't say anything, unwilling to as I tried to feel anything but…well, anything but pain.

For a few awkward minutes there was silence, neither of us saying anything as the weight of our words clung to the air. After a while, though, I got impatient and looking up I saw a strange expression on Riddick's face, one that I had only seen him express only once before.

Hurt.

"Don't you dare." I hissed angrily, not believing what I was seeing. Riddick turned his head to look at me, a look of feigned ignorance crossing his face as I spat at him. "Don't you fucking dare!"

"Don't I dare what?"

I fumed. "Don't you dare give me that look!" Riddick's face became infuriatingly neutral.

"What look?" he questioned, quite calmly, the composedness of his voice aggravating me. I glared at him.

"Like I've betrayed you!" I shouted angrily. "Like I've hurt you!" Riddick stared at me coolly.

"I have no idea what you're talking about-"

"Bullshit!" I swore. "You know exactly what I'm talking about you selfish bastard! And you have no right! No fucking right not after you-"I stopped talking, suddenly unable to say anymore. Much to his credit, Riddick said nothing, waiting, instinctively knowing I wasn't finished talking.

I could barely keep the tremble out of my voice as I started to speak again. "Five years Riddick. Five fucking years of abandonment-yes I said abandonment you prick!" I snapped when I saw an expression of disbelief pass through Riddick. Once again his face became neutral. I stared angrily at him. "I spent five years, Riddick, without you! Five years, going through newspapers, checking the news every single fucking chance that I got, hoping and praying that I received any information on you! Five years, learning of your arrests, your jail breaks, your murders-the fact that you hijacked ships! Do you have any idea what that does to you? Do have any idea you selfish bastard?!"

I didn't give him a chance to answer. "I spent five fucking years of being alone, of worrying and hoping. Five fucking long, miserable, years and you have the nerve to give me a hurt look." I stared at him searching his face. "How dare you. How dare you?" Riddick said nothing, his face becoming hard as he stared back at me.

"Answer me!" I snapped. Again, Riddick said nothing; he just looked at me with that unmovable face. Finally, his tone low and flat, he spoke.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked calmly, his eyes never leaving my gaze as he spoke. I resisted the urge to spit on his face as I glared at him.

"I want answers damn it! I want to know why! Why, Riddick? Why?!"I questioned angrily, demanding that Riddick answer me. My husband said nothing, silence the only reply he was willing to give me as we stared at one another-me with a wild, desperately angry look on my face, Riddick with his unreadable mask.

I shook my head in disbelief. "Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. So that's it. After all this time...that's your answer? Silence?"

Again Riddick said nothing; instead he simply closed his eyes, his whole body suddenly tense as he allowed me to shout at him. I gritted my teeth, the urge to scream in anger suddenly rising. "Riddick…do I mean anything to you?! Does the fact that we were-that we still are married mean anything to you!?" Again, silence-pure, infuriating silence, as Riddick gritted his teeth-my words finally seeming to affect him. I watched as he clenched his fists, a look of conflict starting to cross his face as he debated my words.

I felt my anger rise up again; was it really such a difficult question to answer!?

"Riddick-"

"Marty…things are different now. " Riddick murmured, his gruff voice strained with suppressed emotion as he finally gave me a reply that didn't involve silence. Yet the answer he gave me was anything but satisfying; things are different now? What the hell did he mean, 'things are different now'? What…did he no longer care for me? Or was the idea of marriage suddenly bothersome to him? I mean, I know I want a divorce…but that didn't mean I regretted my marriage to Riddick. If anything…what the hell?!

I wanted to hit him. I honestly wanted to hit Riddick-to pound his face into his head. I think I was going to do it too. The fact that I would probably break my hand, trying to smash his skull in, was the only thing that stopped me.

"Yeah…I guess things are different now. " I hissed, glaring at him. Unable and unwilling to say anything else, I turned around and began walking towards the stairs, my strides angry and purposeful as I moved away from Riddick. I was halfway across the room when my husband's voice suddenly cut through the air.

"So who is he?"

I froze; for a few seconds I stood, with my back turned to Riddick, unable to comprehend the words that had come from his mouth. Then, slowly, I turned around to stare at him.

"What?" I asked, my voice suddenly quiet with shock. Riddick gave me a dry smile.

"Who's the guy you're leaving me for?" Riddick asked, giving me a harsh look. I stared at him in bewilderment-it was as if he were speaking in tongues.

"No one." I whispered, unable to comprehend what he was asking me.

"You had five fucking years to come find me and get a divorce. Now all of a sudden you've decided that you don't want to be my wife?" He gave a bitter laugh. "So I'll ask you again. Who's the guy you've been fucking that's suddenly made you realize you'd rather have his name than mine-"

I don't think I've ever moved faster. My hand slapped Riddick across the face before my brain had a chance to realize that I had moved across the room towards him.

For a few seconds I could hardly say anything, fury shaking my very core as I glowered at Riddick. He stared up at me, his eyes and his face completely and infuriatingly emotionless as a red handprint began to appear on his cheek.

I glared at him. "I don't know how much our marriage meant to you Riddick-clearly not much. But our marriage…meant a hell of a lot to me." I searched his face. "So know this Riddick; I have never been unfaithful to you. And I certainly wasn't unfaithful to you during these past five years."

I turned around to leave, crossing the room once more, only to stop once I reached the stairs. "To answer your question, Riddick…It took me five years to decide that I wanted this divorce…because that's how long it took me to finally realize that you were never coming back." I stared up at him, unshed tears making his form blurry. "We were together, as husband and wife, for three years. Why the hell do you think it took me so long, Richard?" I didn't bother to wait for his answer. I left the room before he had a chance to see me break down and cry.


	10. Chapter 10

You guys rock. No, seriously you do. I mean, over a hundred followers?! Really?! You like my story that much?! Wow just wow...thank you! Thank you so much!

Wow...you guys have no idea how happy I get when I see people actually reviewing and following this story. It just makes me so happy to know that people actually think this story is worthwhile! So please, to everyone who's supported this story so far...Thank you!

Anyways, here's the next chapter. Chapter 10 baby, whoo! Hopefully you like it-I really struggled with Riddick's character on this one so hopefully he comes out right.

**Warning! This Chapter contains strong swearing. If swearing of any kind offends you please do not read this chapter!**

**Happy Reading!**

* * *

I really have to thank the guy who shot me.

Without him, Riddick and I probably would have never gotten married.

Nearly six months had passed since our fight; Riddick and I had moved in together, finally, and we'd started learning how to adjust our lives to one another-a task that was initially quite difficult, considering the varying differences between our work schedules and daily routines. I'm not going to deny it; our relationship was far from perfect. We still had our bad days and we still fought (perhaps not quite as loudly but still, we did fight) but the fact that it looked like Riddick actually trusted me now-that Riddick was finally, finally, putting some effort into our relationship…it made everything worth it. All the struggles, all the problems, all the fierce arguments-all the tears and abused furniture…Riddick's acceptance of us, of him being in a relationship with me…it made everything worth it.

And that was more than I could have ever hoped to ask for.

…that being said, I wasn't expecting Riddick to marry me; by now, this far into our relationship, I had begun to realize that, marriage and Riddick, it just wasn't going to happen. I mean, I didn't doubt Riddick's feelings for me. Sure, I've never heard him claim his love for me but that didn't mean he hadn't shown me how much I meant to him. Little things that Riddick did, such as always making my tea, just the way I liked it, in the morning before he went off to work or buying me lunch when I forgot to pack something to eat, they all added up. They showed me that Riddick was committed to our relationship. They showed me that I could trust him. That he truly, without a doubt, cared for me.

However the idea of marriage…I'm pretty sure it scared him. I didn't even have to ask Riddick to know that the whole ceremonial process behind getting married-the formality and the drama behind the whole affair-deeply and utterly freaked him out. I didn't know what it was-perhaps it was the idea of officially putting a name on our relationship, of making what we had public. Perhaps it was the idea that marriage would finally force him to stop running, to finally be more accepting of his emotions. Perhaps it was the idea of marriage itself, the whole notion of legalizing your life so that it no longer simply belonged to one person but instead to two people-the idea of finally allowing your defenses to come down, of finally becoming vulnerable, in order to fully and completely trust the person you love.

Regardless, whatever the reason was, the issue still remained the same; Riddick did not accept the idea of marriage.

I understood; don't get me wrong, I wanted to marry Riddick. I mean, it hurt, knowing that Riddick still wasn't quite that comfortable with me yet. It hurt, knowing that even the idea of me becoming his wife still couldn't convince Riddick that marriage wasn't as morose as he thought it to be. Make no mistake; I wanted Riddick to be my groom. I wanted him to be the man to fulfill my childhood dreams of wedding cakes and white lace dresses. I wanted him to be the person waiting for me on the other end of the aisle. I wanted him to be my husband.

I also loved him.

Riddick…I loved Riddick. Deeply and truly, with all that my heart could muster, I loved Riddick. And it was because of my love, for Riddick, that I understood why my hopes for marriage had to be put on hold. For how could I expect Riddick to be accepting of marriage when he was just starting to trust me? How could I expect him to simply bare his soul to me, to finally tell me that he loved me, when he was just starting to trust the love that I had for him? Riddick…I understood him now. I mean, I was finally starting to understand how difficult the concept of trust was for him. For God's sake, I was the first person, in a long, long, time, that he was willing to trust! To expect marriage from him, especially when considering his difficult childhood…I could wait. Until Riddick was ready, I could wait. And if the idea of marriage never became a reality for him…well, I guess I could learn to live with that too.

I don't think either of us could have foreseen the event which would lead to our marriage. I certainly wasn't expecting it and I'm fairly certain, had he known of what was to take place, Riddick would have spent the whole day, at home, ensuring that I didn't leave his side.

It had been raining. Even now, thinking about it, I suppose it was a dry sense of irony that had possessed the universe into starting my…future, with Riddick, on a night so similar to the night when we had first met. I had just finished my shift for the day and had started walking home with Tina (who had been impatiently waiting for me to finish working) when, as if he had been anticipating us, a heavily scarred man stepped out from the alleyway and pointed a gun at us.

His demands had been simple; he wanted our money, our jewelry, and any other valuables that we might have had in our possession. We obeyed, obviously we did. Tina, I could clearly see, wanted to fight back but I quickly cut off that train of thought before it could develop any further. I mean, I wasn't stupid; the guy had a gun and we were only armed with our purses and an empty can of mace (which Tina had, quite conveniently, used the night before on an ex-boyfriend that had gotten a bit too grabby). As angry as Tina was, I knew that my friend stood no chance against a fired bullet.

I was scared; I was, without a doubt, absolutely terrified that the guy mugging us might freak out and end up shooting either Tina or me. After all, I'd seen enough on the news to know that situations involving desperate, agitated, men with guns normally didn't end well for the person in front of the barrel. And the guy, in front of us, he looked pretty desperate. He certainly didn't look calm-not with the angry way he kept shouting and the way he was shaking, as he pointed the gun, made me suspect that he was simply robbing us in order to buy drugs. Drug money-I was pretty sure we were being mugged for drug money.

We gave him everything; our wallets, our purses, our earrings, Tina's necklace, the charm bracelet that Riddick had gotten me (for my twenty first birthday), our cellphones, we gave him everything. Everything worth even a stick of wealth, we gave it to him.

The whole time, as we were being mugged, I wanted to cry. I wanted to cry and I wanted to cry in Riddick's arms. Without a doubt, had Riddick been walking with us, this...mugger, most certainly, would have left us alone. Understandable, considering that Riddick was 6'2 feet of walking muscle and looked like he could soundly give you the beating of a lifetime. Had Riddick been walking us home, as he normally did whenever I was finished working, we would have already been in our apartments, safe and sound, having dinner and watching whatever show was on T.V.

Riddick, however, was still at work. Riddick was still at The Company base, working an extra shift in order to repay a co-worker that had done him a favour a few weeks earlier.

If there ever was a time to curse irony, now was the time.

We were soon devoid of all our valuables and, finally, the man was going to leave. At least he was going to…that is until my co-worker, Janice, had come running towards us, screaming that I had forgotten my jacket.

There were no words to describe it. The mugger, he panicked; in the wake of Janice's unexpected arrival, he had ended up panicking and, as a result, pulled the trigger on his gun.

That was the last thing I, lucidly, remember seeing before I ended up collapsing onto the sidewalk.

Pain-I remember feeling a lot of pain ripping throughout my chest-a sharp, continuous, circuit of bursts that left me unable to focus much on anything else. Vaguely, I remember hearing Tina screaming…for help…Tina had been screaming for help, I think. There had been running-someone had run past me as I had lied on the cement, the wetness of the ground and the pelleting rain only heightening the pain my body was feeling-that I was feeling. Slowly, as the seconds passed by, my breathing had grown more laborious, haggard and gasping as I struggled to take in more air.

I thought I had been scared before; that was nothing compared to the dull panic, that I had remembered trying to claw its way to life. I knew I had been terrified-I had been more than just terrified, I had been desperately terrified. Yet the pain…I remember being unable to do a damn thing to voice my fears while the pain in my chest had continued to bloom.

Tina's voice, trying to keep me from slipping into darkness, had become muffled as her words struggled to reach my ears. Her face…I don't remember seeing her face very well as my tears- tears that had refused to lessen as I began to quietly sob-blurred the image of my friend.

My vision had been blackening, just as Tina's face had begun to disappear. Yet, even in my pained state, only one thing had kept surfacing throughout my mind, mocking me over and over as my consciousness had begun to fade:

I was going to die without seeing Riddick.

And the weight of that knowledge, my last thought before I finally passed out from the pain, it had hurt me more than the bullet in my chest.

* * *

I was pretty sure Heaven didn't feel this uncomfortable.

Then again, maybe I wasn't in Heaven. Maybe, I was in the other place.

I blinked, a frown doting my face, as that thought crossed my hazed mind. Hell-I was pretty sure I wasn't in Hell, at least if the lack of screaming people and flames were anything to go by. Certainly, if I was in Hell, I would have at least seen some sort of monstrosity, something so outrageously horrifying or disturbingly tragic, that would have made me start begging God to bring me back to life. At the very least, I should be seeing a demon-some sort of deformed, manically malicious, creature all set to taunt and torment me for the rest of eternity.

I looked around; no tortured souls, no flames, and no demons. So…I guess…I wasn't in Hell?

Continuing to frown, I slowly began to take in my surroundings, trying to ignore the spinning in my head as my brain began to reorganize itself. I was in a room with white walls-very clean looking despite the fadedness of their colour; the room was dimly lit, the dullness of its lights only heightened by the window to my right-whose blinds had been drawn so that only a sliver of light peeked through the plastic; a rounded table was near the window, with two, empty, Styrofoam cups. Oddly enough, there was no chair to go with the table.

I moved my hands, the feel of soft fabric against my fingertips bringing to my attention that I was propped up in a bed-a slightly uncomfortable bed, I might add, with a mattress that was firmer than I was used to sleeping on. Blinking again, I moved my gaze so that I was staring down at my body, taking note of the gown-the hospital gown-that had replaced the work clothes that I, vaguely, remember wearing. Just as quickly, I noted the tubes attached to my arms-IV drips, I slowly began to realize, becoming more convinced by the second that I wasn't dead.

My brain, it was still foggy and, as I tried to sort out the information that was resurfacing my mind, I was fairly certain that there was a…sort of spinning sensation taking over my head. It was odd; I could see clearly yet my brain didn't want to immediately recognize what my eyes were viewing. It wasn't necessarily a bad sensation. I mean, it didn't hurt-despite the various other aches that were starting to bring themselves to my attention. Yet, I couldn't necessarily call it good either. It was just…odd.

Giving my brain another minute to right itself, I turned my head to my left, trying my hardest to keep the spinning to a minimal, only to find myself freezing by the sight of a man, sitting in a chair, with his head lowered while his hands, clasped together, were pressed to his forehead. A man that was, seemingly, too large for his chair and whose appearance seemed very heart wrenchingly familiar-

I am ashamed to admit that it took me three seconds-three ridiculously long seconds-before I finally realized that it was Riddick, sitting in the chair.

I heard Riddick sigh-as if the weight of the entire world were upon his shoulders. Slowly lowering his hands, so that his thumbs now rested on his chin, he looked up at me, a tired almost defeated look on his face…

"Marty!" Riddick said, his voice full of relief as he moved closer to me. At the sound of his voice, I could do little more than blink, his gruff and perfectly deep baritone soothing me in a way that made me want to cry. I mean, there were no words to describe it; despite the discomfort that I was feeling, despite the fact that I was still feeling slightly dazed…just hearing Riddick say my name suddenly made everything all right. Just hearing him say my name…suddenly I felt safe.

…I felt safe…

Fighting back my suddenly fragile emotions, I gave Riddick a weak smile.

"H-Hi." I croaked, the dryness of my throat causing my voice to crack slightly. Riddick grabbed my hand and pressed it to his lips, his warm breath landing gently on my skin.

"Marty…Marty…" he said against my hand, his voice gruff with warm relief as he nuzzled my palm.

"I'm here." I whispered, gently brushing my fingertips over his cheek-rough and scratchy from the stubble that had started to form. I felt my smile start to wobble as he kissed my palm-the pressure of his lips hard yet gentle against my skin.

He drew in a shaky breath as he spoke. "Damn it, Martha…damn it, I thought I lost you, I thought…damn it." His voice was rough with emotion as he held my hand, refusing to let it go. I tried to give him another smile, the sight of my boyfriend's distressed face causing my heart to squeeze with concern.

Gently, I tried to reassure him. "I'm okay-"

"The fuck you are." Riddick growled, angrily cutting me off. At the sharpness of his words, I stared at him in surprise, shocked by his anger-a strange, almost desperate, anger that I had never ever seen in him before. My bewilderment only became more pronounced when I felt his hands-which still hadn't let go of my fingers-start to tremble.

"Riddick…" I said softly, the sight of Riddick's agitated form drawing forth the well of worry that was reserved for my boyfriend. Tenderly, I tried to placate him. "I'm fine."

He shook his head, his eyes and voice painfully raw with emotion as he gritted his words through his teeth. "No. No, you're not." I stared at him, my concern only deepening as I watched Riddick struggle to keep his composure-as I watched him struggle to stay strong. Still touching his cheek, my voice was soft as I felt him move to nuzzle my palm again.

"I'm alive." I murmured, watching as Riddick placed another kiss on my knuckles. He said nothing, my words almost non-existent, as he pressed his forehead to my hand.

"Riddick-I…what happened?" I asked, vainly trying to remember the events that had led me into a hospital gown. At my question, I watched as Riddick's face became stony, his jaw hardening as he closed his eyes shut while the fingers on my hand tightened considerably-enough so that I actually winced from the slight pain inflicted by his vice like grip. Looking at him in confusion, I noticed that his lips were pressed together into a thin line, tight and ferociously fierce.

"Riddick?" I questioned, wondering at the severe expression that was suddenly upon his face. Riddick said nothing, continuing to reward me with fierce silence as he squeezed my fingers. Then, ever so slowly-in a voice that shook with barely contained anger-he spoke.

"…you were shot." Riddick responded, gritting out the words between his now clenched teeth.

I gave him another confused look. "I was…shot?" I asked, my voice slightly puzzled as I tried to wrap my head around what he was saying. Riddick nodded, refusing to look at me as he answered.

"…yes…"

I frowned, voicing my thoughts aloud, as I struggled to remember. "Tina and I…we were walking home from work…" I murmured softly, my brows furrowed with concentration as bits and pieces sorted through my brain, only to find my eyes widening as the memory of the scarred man came rushing back to me. I stared at Riddick frantically, suddenly worried. "Tina! Riddick, is Tina okay?"

"She's fine." He retorted, his gruff voice anything but interested in the wellbeing of my friend. Regardless, I gave him a look of relief, grateful that Tina hadn't been hurt.

"…is she here?" I asked, slowly starting to take more note of the room that I was in; another chair was next to Riddick with Tina's jacket and purse thrown across its seat in a hasty heap.

Riddick's eyes were still closed as he nodded again. "…yeah, she is. She just went to go get some more coffee." I gave a sigh of relief.

"…thank God she's not hurt-"

Riddick's eyes flashed open with rage. "Who gives a fuck?" He snarled, cutting me off. The venom in his voice was undeniable as he glared at me.

I stared at him in shock, my words just as bewildered as I tried to make sense of the anger that marred his handsome features. "Riddick…how can you say-"

"I've just spent the last sixteen hours thinking you were going to die! Sixteen fucking hours, Marty! Do you have any fucking idea what I…how I….how I…" He stopped talking, gritting his teeth once more as his words suddenly became too much.

"Riddick?" I questioned, wide-eyed as I watched him struggle to speak. Concern welled in me at his conflicted expression.

Riddick's voice was no better than a growl-low and gruff with emotion-as he spoke. "Fuck, I thought I lost you. Fuck it all, I thought I lost you." His hands started to shake again, trembling against my fingers. Without thinking, I moved my other hand so that it lay on top of his, quelling their trembles.

I gave him a gentle smile. "Riddick…I'm okay." I whispered, trying to console him as I spoke. "I'm okay." He closed his eyes again, his brow furrowed, as he pressed his lips, once more, to my hands.

"Tina called me." He murmured, his voice just shy of a whisper, as he continued to speak. His hands moved, disengaging their grasp on me only to reappear, milliseconds later, to interlock our fingers with one another. "Just after you reached the hospital, she called me and told me…I didn't know what to expect, I just knew that I had to…fuck, I had to see you." At his confession I felt my heart tighten, suddenly overwhelmed with love for the man before me-for this stubborn, blunt, arrogant, overbearingly protective, undeniably loving (even if it came quite awkwardly at times) man who cared for me so much…

"Riddick…I love you." I whispered, unable to stop the few tears that slid down my cheeks as I finally gave in to my emotions. I could barely keep my voice from cracking as I smiled at Riddick. "I love you so much." My voice was soft as I looked at him, my eyes softer as I watched the turmoil that crossed Riddick's face-a coagulated mixture of worried relief and anger-as he struggled to control his warring emotions.

For the next few seconds Riddick stayed like this-his eyes closed, his jaw clenched tight as he held my hands. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, he opened his eyes and looked at me, his golden orbs transfixing me with the intensity of their gaze.

I felt my breath catch in my throat; his golden gaze left me breathless, completely spellbound by the emotion-the sudden, intense passion that I saw in his eyes.

"…Marty…I…" Riddick started, his voice a low and roughly husky. Again, I couldn't breathe as I registered the tone of Riddick's voice-uncertain, hesitant, and perhaps…scared? I didn't know; I just knew that his tone was anything but the usual confidence that normally coloured his voice whenever he spoke. His tone, it left me…it left me…it left me almost expectant.

At Riddick's words I unconsciously licked my lips before planting my teeth on the bottom lip, suddenly nervous. Apprehensively, I watched as Riddick drew in a breath before slowly opening his mouth-

"Marty!"

I jerked my head up; the sound-a feminine shriek of delighted relief-immediately grabbed my attention, distracting me from Riddick, as I turned my head to see who had shouted. Moving my head towards the direction of the doorway I was met by the sight of Tina carrying two cups of coffee, her normally perfect hair messy, her face full of unabashed joy and relief…

"Tina?" I asked, looking at my friend in bewilderment. Beside me, I heard Riddick make an irritated sound, his voice a muttered, annoyed growl (which sounded suspiciously like him swearing at the redhead) as my friend bounded towards me.

"Marty, thank goodness you're okay!" Tina cried, her voice undeniably grateful as she reached the side of my bed, dumping the coffee on the table, before flinging her arms around me. Almost immediately she began bombarding me with her words, ushering apologizes (despite it not being her fault) and unable to stop sobbing her relief as she hugged me. I simply nodded, unable to say or do anything but reassure her that I was fine.

As Tina continued to speak, I peeked at Riddick; my boyfriend had fallen silent, the emotional conversation we had been having now forgotten as Tina's voice filled the room. His face had slipped into a mask of indifference, devoid of the raw emotion that had made up his expression earlier. Occasionally, the neutrality on his face was broken with a swift look of annoyance, directed towards Tina, as my friend continued to drone on.

I didn't need to ask to know that Riddick didn't want to talk anymore, the moment we had been sharing now broken by Tina's arrival. I also didn't need to ask to know that Riddick's words-words that had almost been ushered-had been meaningful. In fact, from the way he had looked at me, it had almost been like…like Riddick had been about to tell me…

…but the moment was gone; Riddick was done talking and, considering how stubborn and uncomfortable he was when dealing with his emotions, I was pretty sure that I was never going to know what Riddick had been about to say before Tina had interrupted us.

Still…just because Riddick hadn't said anything…it didn't mean that I didn't have some sort of idea to what he had been trying to say. That was, if the fact that Riddick hadn't let go of my hands, despite the fact that Tina was now in the room, meant anything. And, giving my boyfriend another glance, I couldn't help but find myself wondering at the depth of…warmth that was in Riddick's eyes as he looked at me.

No…I really didn't need to hear it to know that Riddick had been about to tell me that he loved me too.


End file.
